


Hell is Empty

by Xazz



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Devil, F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Sex, Shapeshifting, demi god, demon, hitman - Freeform, pact, super powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:32:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazz/pseuds/Xazz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the world’s problems belonged to the devils. Not that it was unearned of course, when you held the power of gods in your hand it was almost easy to let it get away from you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harmless

**Author's Note:**

> crazy AU request I got a few months ago  
> I also like to refer to it as the AU where Altair sleeps with every character in the franchise

The headline scrawled across the bottom of the screen even as the anchors covered the story. Explosions in Boston, the cause of which was currently unknown but Altair could hear the speculations already. By the end of the night it’d be a Devil, whether it had been or not. Even if it wasn’t, they’d be blamed. All the world’s problems belonged to the Devils. Not that it was unearned of course, when you held the power of gods in your hand it was almost… easy to let it get away from you show the norms how puny they were.

Altair flicked his cigarette away from him onto the sidewalk and turned away from the array of TVs broadcasting the news. They were all streaming the same thing; terrorists, bombing, the explosions in Copley, live news feeds and soon it’d be devolving into the finger pointing. There would be raids in Boston within the week, worming out the Devils, or trying to at least. The city was going to be a mess and these bombs might just be the start of it if the Army and National Guard were involved. It wasn’t Altair’s concern, he wasn’t even in America right now.

It was spring in Moscow, finally, the warmer weather keeping the snow away and Altair couldn’t even see his breath. People were walking around in short sleeves and light jackets. The Russians were more than glad that spring was here. Altair still thought it was too damn cold but he was sucking it up.

The building he wanted had a security guard and you had to sign in. When he opened the door the guard looked up and Altair saw unashamed interest. Of course he did. Altair was wearing the skin of a pretty girl from a convenience store in San Francisco he’d run into a few years ago. She had a long neck and thin wrists and a figure like a vase. Her hair had been black, shiny, and full of curls. He felt bad for her since he’d had to style it a few times, he liked using her face, and it was a hassle to clean and a hassle to make it behave.

The guard looked at Altair’s face but as he came to sign into the book and leaned over the counter saw his eyes drop to cleavage. Stupid. He signed in and left. The guard wouldn’t remember what he looked like and there were no cameras in the lobby. He smiled at the guard, he knew exactly how to make convenience store clerk smile and flirt and the guard smiled back.

Altair got into the elevator and his face settled to normal, almost a scowl really.

Altair put on his game face as he got out of the elevator and onto the floor he needed and walked down the hall to find the condo he needed. It was down the hall and he knocked, before waiting. He adjusted himself a bit, he needed to put on more weight, this skin didn’t fit as well as it used to and he didn’t have the body mass to pull off the girl’s full hips and breasts like he used to.

The door opened and Altair smiled, “Are you Юлиан Комзин?” he asked his voice sweet and feminine, Russia flawless.

“Yes. Who are you?” he said, eyeing Altair, but not as a threat, more like a hunk of meat.

“Андрей sent me,” he said, and Юлиан eyes lit up a bit. “I assume you know why I’m here,” he said, smiling sweetly.

“Yes,” he said, now leering at him and very clearly staring down Altair’s shirt. Maybe because Altair didn’t get it but Altair didn’t understand the reason for staring down a girl’s shirt. Of course he had just positioned himself to be a call girl so maybe he had no one but himself to blame. “Come in Miss…”

“Ева,” he said and slid into the condo, his heels clicked on the hardwood.

“I didn’t know Андрей was sending you,” Юлиан said as he closed the door.

Altair giggled, oh the things he did for this job. When was it over his feet hurt. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” he said and shrugged off his spring jacket. He was regretting wearing a dress now. He didn’t enjoy the leering. One day he was going to learn to not look like pretty girls. Only homely girls from now on so he didn’t get stared at by letches like Юлиан. Bless girls with the patience to put up with this every day. Altair didn’t have that.

“Well, you certainly are a surprise,” leech. “I’m sure we can make you comfortable,” Юлиан said, coming up behind him and put a hand on Altair’s shoulders. Yeah that needed to stop. He guided Altair towards one of the rooms and predictably it was a bedroom.

“I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable,” he said and sat on the bed, putting his bag on his lap. “You should go get cleaned up,” he added, looking Юлиан up and down. Not that he was dirty but any self respecting whore should at least make sure those who were paying weren’t gross. That’s how he felt anyway.

“Heh,” Юлиан seemed amused, “You must be new,” he said, grinning like a wolf, “You come to my house, you do as I say. Take off your dress,” Юлиан said.

Altair sighed, “I suggest you make this easy on yourself,” he said and reached into his handbag and pulled out a gun with a suppressor already on it, “Get on your knees,” through the voice of a convenience store clerk he sounded almost nice. Юлиан looked at him in surprise. “Go on, I know how to shoot this thing,” he said getting up and his empty hand joined the first on the stock of the handgun.

“Who are you?” he asked but did get down on his knees.

“No one you know,” he said, “It’s nothing personal Юлиан, I’m just here on a job.”

“A job? A job for who?” he asked, staring at him, confused. “And why did he send a little girl to kill me?”

Altair smiled his own smile, bending the face of the pretty clerk into his personal sneer. “You know who sent me,” he said and Юлиан scowled at him, of course he did. “And you know why they sent me and Юлиан,” he gave a short, dry, laugh, “You’ve been a very bad boy.”

“Fuck you slut,” Юлиан spat.

“That’s nice,” he said, “Do you have any last words?” Юлиан was silent, Altair frowned, “I said,” he poked the barrel of the gun against Юлиан’s head, “any last words?”

“Not for you,” he glared at him.

“Very well. Goodbye Юлиан, tell my father I said hello,” and the horror that blossomed in his eyes made Altair smile and he pulled the trigger. There was a small pop as the gun fired and went right through Юлиан’s head. Altair pushed Юлиан over and picked his bullet and the shell that had popped out of the gun and put them in his bag. Poor Юлиан, like so many others he had nothing good to think about people like Altair. Too many stupid, bad, legends about them saying were the offspring of humans and demons or even satan himself. Except his parents were just human and Altair was a bit more than that.

“Oh thank goodness,” Altair groaned and finally took his heels off. He didn’t know how women wore these things so often. His were only three inches and they hurt like nothing else. He tossed them into his handbag and walked to the closet. Юлиан was still bleeding out on the floor but it didn’t matter much. Altair ruffled his hair and started going through the closet, he messed it up and that felt great. So he was looking for… that, a seam in the wall. He pushed on the wall and it clicked and popped out. Inside were a few bound stacks of rubles, a gun, some bullets, and a thin manila folder. Altair took that and then reclosed the little safe.

Altair didn’t even look at Юлиан as he walked back across the room and grabbed his bag and pulled out another pair of shoes, these without heels. He slipped on the small feet of the convenience store clerk and went into the bathroom to check himself. He made a few faces at himself before leaving the condo and going back downstairs.

“Have fun with Юлиан?” the guard asked as he signed out, clearly they knew why pretty girls showed up at Юлиан’s condo.

“I was unimpressed,” he said and then left, with a flourish of his hair, a trick he’d learned when he was young and decided that taking the skins of girls was in his best interest.

—

After giving the folder at his employer  in Seattle Altair dropped himself off at his own condo on the couch. A high rise in New York because when you were an assassin like Altair you could afford to live well. He was exhausted but he knew he wasn’t done yet. He was still running on his blood price and he needed to finish it.

Altair pulled out his personal cell phone, he had three of them, his personal, the work phone, and the one he used to call his parents. He honestly hated this part, it was so boring, but he was tired and he couldn’t sleep until he’d sealed the pact. All part of the blood price. Damn him for his birth sometimes. He opened his contacts and selected ten of them and sent out a mass text ‘Tired. Need some assistance,’ and then he tipped his head back onto the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

He didn’t sleep though, he couldn’t. Not that he didn’t want to but his pact that allowed him to mimic someone else’s body didn’t allow him to sleep. Paying the blood price broke the pact and he could sleep and get back into his own skin. He was what people were still blaming for the Boston Marathon bombing; a devil. Stupid religious assholes giving people like him such a terrible label. Before Christianity ‘devils’ were demi gods of great power. They were revered, even worshiped. Now people like him were shunned, arrested, usually shot, and of course blamed for everything from car chases, cheating spouses, and of course all forms of internal terrorism.

His phone rang with his text sounder. With a sigh Altair opened the eyes of the convenience store clerk he’d been wearing for four days now and looked at the screen. He got several texts all at once and all of them were some version of ‘sorry, can’t’ and he groaned. God damnit. He put his head back but then sat up straight and texted one more person, focused. ‘Could I randomly show up and have sex with you or would that be a problem?’ normally he didn’t contact them because they were taken. But this was a serious situation. His phone jingled a moment later.

‘You realize it’s 2 in the afternoon right?’

‘Does that mean it’s a problem? I’ve been awake four days’

‘My girlfriend is home’

‘Ask if she wants a threesome’

‘At two in the afternoon?’

‘It was a yes or no question’

Who are you wearing?’

‘My San Francisco girl’

‘Fine. You can come over’

‘I owe you one’

‘You owe me several at this point!’

‘Are we having a threesome?’

—

“He all right?” Lucy asked Desmond, Altair was already about to go to sleep again and sleep, right there in Desmond’s bed. Lucy hadn’t been happy to see him at first cause he was still wearing his pretty clerk face. He’d let it melt off when he’d gotten inside though. She’d been a lot more understanding about a hot guy wanting a threesome than a hot girl wanting a threesome.

“He’ll be fine,” Desmond said, Altair just yawned. “He just needs some sleep.” Desmond knew what Altair was, he was one too, but different. Different pact, different blood price. Lucky bastard. Sleepless pact and to commit one of the ‘first sins’ as a blood price was horrible. But he didn’t ask what Desmond had to do.

“You sure?”

“Yes, now c’mon. He’s harmless, promise,” and they left. Harmless. Right. People like Altair were a lot of things. He wouldn’t ever call them ‘harmless’.


	2. Too Good for You

Altair raised an eyebrow when his phone started ringing. What the hell? Literally. People didn’t just call him, even his friends (little few those were) didn’t call him. Altair didn’t like phones. He didn’t like talking to people and not being able to see their expressions, not being able to read their body language. It was second nature, reading someone, so he could mimic them later. Talking to the air annoyed him. If you had to call Altair on his personal phone most people texted. It was less messy and didn’t set off Altair’s near OCD obsession with needing to see someone while talking to them.

The phone rang but Altair didn’t pick it up. He just watched it ring. Then it went to voicemail. He’d look at it in a few minutes, he was making lunch. Then the phone started ringing again and Altair glared at his phone so hard it might as well have burst into flames. Who the hell was calling him?! Altair turned back to making his lunch, grilled cheese made with brie and a slice of avocado and tomato in it.

Normal people had all sorts of ideas about what devils ate but very few were willing to admit that other than the pact devils weren’t any different than regular humans. Meaning Altair liked normal food. He had a few friends who had food related pacts and blood prices but most were pretty tame. Though he only knew two who had ‘strange’ ones. One guy, who called himself The Vampire, had to drink blood of another human to end his pact. He usually carried a vial on him, which was smart since his pact let him read people’s minds, at the price that he had a very limited control over how much he heard. While a useful ability it was good for only a few seconds at a time before it all just turned into white noise. Another devil he’d heard needed to eat their own hair in order to break their pact. They rarely enacted it though. Too messy.

Altair was glad his blood price was something as trivial as a first sin: murder, sex, theft, or lie. Altair murdered for a living and almost never broke his pact with it, his pact was his cover. Theft was too time consuming since it couldn’t be something simple like shoplifting a pack of gum or a candy bar (he’d tried that as a kid), it had to be something… substantial. Same with the lie. No white lie would do, it had to be something serious.

Which left sex. Altair had never been a fan of it quite honestly. It was messy and dirty and slippery. All words Altair was against, communication wasn’t the only thing Altair was mildly or more OCD about. But most of all it was just… boring. Atair had had sex with more people than he cared to count or keep track of and it was always so unsatisfying to be honest. Even times when he wasn’t exhausted from his pact. It made breaking his pact easy at least since who didn’t enjoy no strings sex?

Altair turned his sandwich as his phone rang again. He scowled at it and willed it to stop ringing. But of course it didn’t. It kept ringing, and ringing. It went off to ring again and again and only once he’d taken his lunch off the pan and turned off the burner did he go answer it. He picked it up just as it stopped ringing but his brows arched as it picked right back up. This time at who was calling. What the hell were they calling him for? Last time he’d heard from them had been six months ago, they didn’t even answer Altair’s texts for help with his pact.

He contemplated not picking it up. But he was curious and clearly enjoyed being punished for stupid things, so he swiped his thumb across the face of his phone. “Malik,” he said, sounding pleasant but also clearly annoyed, “what can I do for you?”

"Was wondering when you’d pick up," Malik said on the other side and Altair felt his OCD starting to go. Damnit he hated phones.

"I was making lunch," Altair said testily.

"I see."

There was a silence. Altair wasn’t really ‘friends’ with Malik. They just worked the same circles, killed for the same people and sometimes fucked on Malik’s bed. But that was about the extent of their relationship. It was usually very professional and sometimes they even worked together. It Malik was calling it was because he wanted something, or needed help. Still why couldn’t he just be a civilized human being and text him? None of this talking on the phone bullshit. “What do you want Malik? You don’t just make social calls to me.”

"Right. I need some help."

"What sort of help?"

"My parents are visiting," Altair held back a smart remark about that, like how that required help or why that would warrant calling Altair. "And… well, to stop them from parading various girls in front of me like show animals I told them I had a girlfriend."

"Malik you do remember you’re gay right?" Altair clarified.

"I do remember. My parents… do not."

"I don’t see how this is a problem I can help you with," Altair said boredly and moved back to the kitchen where his grilled cheese was perfectly warm still. He took one of his big kitchen knives out.

"I was wondering if you could come over and pretend to be my girlfriend," and Altair nearly cut one of his fingers off as he cut his sandwich into triangles.

"… Come again?" he asked.

"You heard me."

"I’m going to hang up now," and Altair took his phone off his ear. As he did he heard Malik yelling through the speaker but he tapped the screen and Malik was cut off. He put his sandwich on a plate and his phone rang again. He put it on vibrate it and ignored it before going to his table to enjoy his lunch.

Malik though was nothing if not persistent and kept calling him all through him eating. Altair dragged himself to the kitchen counter, grabbed his phone, and answered it. “What?” he asked, now angry too.

"Just hear me out."

"I’m not pretending to be your girlfriend. Don’t you, you know, have some girl friends?"

"They’d all skin me if I asked."

"And I wouldn’t?"

"You’re much less likely. Also my parents know all my girl friends. They’d know I was lying. I’ll make it worth your while."

"And just how do you think you’ll do that?" Altair asked mealy and leaned against the counter.

"I’ll pay you."

Atair was quiet a moment, “How much we talking here?”

"What’s your rate for a hit?"

"You’ll cough up that much for me to pretend to be your girlfriend for your parents?"

"Yeah sure. I got that. I’ll even meet your blood price."

"Damn right you are."

"And you need to be convincing about the whole thing."  
"Malik, don’t tell me how to do my job. Convincing people I’m actually female seems to have turned into my second job. People always fall for the pretty face," he wasn’t even gloating. It was basically fact. "When is it?"

"Tomorrow night."

"I can be there. You have anyone special in mind?"

"Just someone pretty and not blonde, I don’t like blondes."

"Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow."

"I’m slightly afraid."

"Good. Now, don’t fucking call me. I hate the fucking phone," and Altair hung up.

— 

Clearly Malik was surprised when he opened the door to Altair standing there. “Uh…” he said, staring at him, “Can I help you?”

Altair rolled his eyes at him, “Malik, you idiot, it’s Altair,” he huffed.

"A-Altair?" and Malik was gaping at him.

"Yes. Why else would you have a hot girl at your doorstep?"

Malik was still staring, “I’ve actually never seen you like this give me a second,” Altair rolled his eyes again and just shoved Malik out of the way, walking into the house. “I didn’t know you had someone that hot,” he said.

"She isn’t much your taste though is she?" Altair asked over his shoulder. Malik lived in North Carolina in the mountains and it was still cool up here, out in the middle of nowhere. Malik took the other approach to their life and lived in isolation. Altair was wearing the body of a girl he’d met in Sri Lanka named Shey, her hair long and black he usually kept in a braid, her skin the color of caramel and eyes a strange honey-green. It was why he’d decided he liked her the first place, he liked his second skins to have something fascinating about them. Unlike his San Francisco store clerk Altair knew more about this girl, he’d made friends with her and had kept in touch with her for a while until her house had burned down, she caught in it trying to get her grandparents out. What a waste.

One thing Altair knew and would hold onto was that she was too good for Malik. Too beautiful, too pristine, too wonderful. It was why Malik was staring. Malik was only a bit attractive, but his nose and ears were a bit too big, his eyes were boring and he was so plain. Malik was boring so even though Altair could mimic him perfectly if he wanted to from how much time they’d spent together (rather limited though it was) he was too boring, too easy, and thus not worth Altair’s time. Even if Malik did like girls there were slim chances he’d ever get someone like Shey.

"Wow," Malik said and then chuckled, "I didn’t know I had such a hot girlfriend," he joked.

"You better appreciate me," Altair said, his voice Shey’s and very sweet and touched by a barely there Indian accent, "She was more interesting than you." Malik scowled at him.

"You got my email?" he asked.

"I did," Altair nodded.

"Good. What’s your name tonight? I haven’t told my parents what ‘her’ name is."

"Shey," Altair had no problem using his real name, he honored her by being who she was. He only brought Shey out for important reasons, or ones to make an impression. "When do they get here?"

"Half an hour. Don’t forget to be nice."

"Maik, please, this is me we’re talking about."

"I know it’s you!" Malik cried, "That’s why I’m saying that since I know how you are. You’re a terror!"

"I promise," Altair said and slid over in front of Malik and put his hands on Malik’s shoulders. He saw Malik swallow at the sudden invasion of privacy of which Altair had very little concept of, "I’ll be on my best behavior," and he kissed Malik lightly on the lips. Malik just gaped after him as he turned away to put his light coat in the closet. Too easy.

—

Another reason Altair hated sex. It left him sore like you wouldn’t believe and just as exhausting if he’d been holding his pact for two days. He was lying face down on Malik’s bed, sweat still glistening on his skin. Shey’s skin a distant memory now and he wore his own like a pair of comfortable pants. The kind that was worn at the leg hems, fraying, and maybe had a few holes in them and were thin around the crotch. Shey and the rest were well tailored business suits, for work, his own was comfort and for lying around.

Malik’s hand was against the small of his back and Altair grunted, “Go away,” he grumbled, tired.

"Going to sleep already?" Malik teased, he was still on his hands and knees above Altair.

"I hate you," Altair sighed. "And yes."

"Kill joy."

"The job was to be your girlfriend, not to fuck you," Altair said boredly and pushed himself up to look over his shoulder at Malik. He was more interesting without clothes on, his body scarred from his work, much like Altair’s.

"Girlfriends fuck their boyfriends," Malik said.

Altair rolled his eyes at him, “Job ends when the blood price is met. I’m tired, jerk off if you’re still horny,” and he flopped back down on the bed.

"You’re no fun at all."

"I’m not paid enough to have fun," Altair yawned, but Malik did get off him. Malik laid down next to him as he pulled the blanket up.

"Thanks for the save," Malik said.

"Next time you find yourself a real girlfriend," Altair sighed and was then asleep.


	3. Telephone Wire

It really wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Altair hadn’t fucked up exactly. He hadn’t at all actually. The target had just been lucky. Lucky and then Altair had fit his knife right between their eyes because fuck them they were better off dead if for no other reason than Altair’s wallet needed them to be.

He ran down a side street, panting, pained, before he had to stop and press his hand to his side. Fuck. He’d been shot and it hurt like a motherfucker. He pressed against a wall in agony. He needed to find a place to stop, rest, take the bullet out and shift.

Shifting while already in a shift was difficult. Altair had learned long ago that while shifted his power to imitate was greatly diminished. And he needed perfect recall to shift, he needed to remember everything about the person he wanted to shift into. It was hard to do when shifted and not going back to his own skin. It was even harder when he was in pain.

Altair froze when someone walked past where he was hiding. He fingered the trigger of his gun and watched them. If they turned around they would see him. Hopefully they’d just keep walking.

Karma wasn’t on Altair’s side. They turned, clearly satisfied he wasn’t down this public alley and instantly saw Altair. Altair brought his gun up and as they were about to yell something he fired. The gun coughed a suppressed bullet out and it hit the man right in the head. They were dead nearly instantly. He heard other people though. Clearly they hadn’t been far enough away. Muttering a curse Altair took off again his bullet wound be damned.

They chased him and Altair kept bleeding. He had to shift. He _had_ to shift because they wouldn’t be able to touch him if he did. Altair had to focus. Easier said than done because he was now on a busier street, not terribly busy, but there were people. He had to dodge and weave around them or shove them aside and every time he looked over his shoulder he saw the men pursuing him gaining.

He started mid step and brought to mind one of his easy ones. He pushed back the pain in his side from getting shot and pushed down the mild panic he was feeling. Instead he brought up to the surface of his mind a man that looked nothing like him. They were taller and darker with silver hair, a long beard and dark eyes. His grandfather had been a devil and had taught him everything he needed to know about the pacts and the blood price.

Altair ran across a street just as the light turned green. On the other side he looked and saw the men had had to stop chasing him because of the cars. Altair turned back forward and ran until he couldn’t anymore. He nearly collapsed on someone’s stoop, gasping, in absolute agony and grabbed onto the shift. He remembered his grandfather. His face aged and became wrinkled, his hair grew longer and he developed a beard. His body became a bit more frail. Shifting to other devils, or family members, was always easier than strangers, or humans. And right now the fact that he was so familiar with his own, late, grandfather, was a blessing.

He groaned and slumped against the side of the stoop. The men who’d been chasing him ran past. One stopped and looked at him. “Old man, you see someone run by here?” he demanded.

“That way,” he croaked, knowing his pain could be seen as age. The man didn’t even say thank you before running off.

Once they were gone Altair knew he had to get up. He had to _move_. He didn’t even know where he was. He used the hand rails to pull himself up and for once he was glad for the pact. It would keep him awake until he bled out since going unconscious was also something that couldn’t happen during the pact. He needed to find out where he was and then get to a hospital.

Altair looked at the house he was sitting in front of and laughed aloud. He knew where he was. Great dumb luck, or memory, had made him come here because he knew it was safe. He shuffled up the stairs and rang the doorbell.

The door opened to a man he didn’t recognize and for a moment Altair despaired. “Uh… can I help you?” the man, younger, relatively good looking with blue eyes and black hair. Ugly pants, plaid shirt with rolled up sleeves, bandana that made him look like an idiot. Altair took him in in an instant and a sweep of his eyes. Habit. There was more but he couldn’t focus on that.

“Is Rauf here?” Altair asked.

“…Yes. Can I ask who’s asking?”

“Altair- please-

“Rauf,” he called into the house, “There’s a man named Altair the door here for you.”

“Altair?” he heard Rauf’s voice, thank god. Or thank someone. There was no god. If there was he wouldn’t have made people like Altair. The closest thing Altair knew to a god was himself, and others like him. “Altair?” he focused on the close sound of Rauf’s voice, “Yusuf go keep an eye on lunch,” and Rauf shooed Yusuf off.

“Shot,” Altair said softly and showed Rauf his bloody palm.

“Shit. Come in, come in,” and Rauf dragged Altair inside. “Yusuf I’ll be upstairs. Keep an eye on the food.”

“What? Rauf, what’s going on?”

“Just a friend. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be right down,” and Rauf pushed Altair upstairs, nearly carrying him, and pushed him into a bathroom. “What did you do Altair?” he asked as he opened the cabinet under the sink.

“Job. They got lucky. Chased me. It hurts,” he gasped.

“Yes it would,” and Rauf covered his mouth, forcing something past his lips. Altair swallowed the pills dry. Rauf was a kindergarten teacher who’d once been a British Special Forces combat medic. He was since retired and lived… alone. At least last time Altair knew Rauf lived alone. He was a good contact in England though and he always liked having an excuse to come to Oxford since he was always open for a fuck after a job. But that… kid (why the hell was a university student in Rauf’d house?) might be problematic. “Do you know how much blood you lost?” bless Rauf at least he didn’t have an accent, growing up all over the place did that to you.

“No. A lot,” Altair winced as Rauf pulled off his shirt.

“Who’s the skin?” Rauf asked him, keeping him talking.

“Grandpa,” Altair said and was starting to feel tired. That wasn’t good. He’d only been in the shift half a day, he shouldn’t be tired. It meant he was fading.

Rauf slapped him, “Don’t go to sleep, Altair,” Rauf told him sternly.

“Yes, sir,” Altair said, now much more awake, apparently he’d said the tired part aloud. He cried out when Rauf seemed to stab him and wiggled something around _in_ him. Altair only liked things in him when it was to pay his blood price. He heard a ‘tink’ and looked into the sink. There was a bullet covered in his blood at the bottom. Well that would explain the pain. Rauf had just ripped it out of his body.

“I’m going to cauterize the wound, I’ll be right back,” Rauf told him and left.

Before he came back he heard him and- Yusuf right?- the university student talking outside. The younger man seemed worried but Rauf was firm and eventually came back inside. “Who’s the kid?” Altair asked.

“One, he’s not a kid he’s twenty-five and working on her Ph. D and two, my boyfriend.”

“Fuck…” Altair muttered and then Rauf stuffed a towel into his mouth.

“One, two-“ and on two pressed something searing hot to his skin. Altair screamed into the gag and clenched, biting the towel. A few unbidden tears leaked from his eyes. “Okay, you shouldn’t lose any more blood,” and Rauf pressed something blessedly cool to his wound and tugged the towel out of Altair’s mouth. “Now stay right here and don’t sleep.”

“Where are you going?” Altair asked.

“To explain to my boyfriend why I just heated my cutting knife up to red hot,” Rauf said.

Altair looked down, “Sorry,” he said quietly.

“Ah well better late than never he finds out that I’m friends with an incubus,” Rauf said and Altair snorted a laugh; such a bad idea. “Yeah, don’t do that, I’ll be back,” and he left.

Altair sat on the toilet lid for a while. He didn’t pass out so that was a win for him. He felt really tired though. However he _did not_ sleep. He hovered just above waking and wondered if Yusuf would let Altair have sex with his boyfriend. He didn’t feel like buying a hooker. Not after getting shot. But he was just _so tired_.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but Rauf came back eventually and on the landing Altair could see Yusuf, looking curious, but at a distance. “You told him we don’t bite right?” Altair asked Rauf.

“Be nice, you’re the first devil he’s ever met and you look like an eighty year old man,” Rauf said, helping him stand.

“I feel like one. Where are we going?” he asked as Rauf led him out of the bathroom and downstairs.

“Living room, you can lay on the couch for a while.”

“You gonna help me with my pact?” Altair asked him.

Rauf looked at him, “Maybe,” he said. Altair sighed and Rauf helped him sit on the couch and lay down. “I’ll make some more lunch,” he said acting like this was the most normal thing in the world. When you were friends with Altair though you got used to this stuff, and him dropping in at odd times.

Yusuf sat on the arm chair opposite him, watching him.

“I can’t throw fireballs,” Altair told him, moving a slightly to get at least a little comfortable. “Or read minds, or turn people into frogs, or walk on water, or turn invisible, or anything I know you’re thinking of asking me what my pact is,” Altair told him. Yusuf at least had the humility to blush.

“Then what can you do?” Yusuf asked.

Altair focused, it was hard, but he did it. He could become anyone but himself until his blood price was met. So he became Rauf, because Yusuf would get freaked out by it. And he did. “I can shape shift,” he said.

“… That is so horribly disconcerting,” Yusuf said. “Please stop that.”

Altair grunted and shifted again, his brows furrowing, all this shifting was murder and his new burn adjusting to the new skin and color hurt like hell. He became one of his go-tos. His pretty connivence store clerk girl with the curly hair who’s name he knew was Sandra because it had said so on her little plastic name tag she wore and Altair remembered everything about his skins. “Say hello to Sandra,” he said with Sandra’s voice.

Yusuf’s eyes went wide. “Can you turn into anyone?”

“I have to touch them and be around them long enough to remember what they look like,” Altair said.

“So you could become me?” Yusuf asked.

“If I touched you,” Altair said and when he held out his hand Yusuf leaned back. “Heh, thought so,” he pulled his arm back.

“How do you know Rauf?”

“Old friend,” Altair shifted again. Fuck he _hurt_. “Known him for a very long time. How do you know him?”

“He’s my little brother’s teacher,” Yusuf said awkwardly.

“Huh… You like him?”

“Why? You care?” Yusuf asked testily.

“He’s my friend,” Altair said.

Yusuf blushed a little, “Yeah I like him. Obviously.”

“Good. Because if you ever hurt him I will carve out your lungs and use your ribs-

“Altair,” Rauf’s voice cut him off, “Stop scaring my boyfriend,” he scolded him. Yusuf looked positively _petrified_ at Altair’s threat.

“Good,” Altair said and looked at Rauf. “Can’t have one of my only buddies have a broken heart now can I? Might as well act the scary devil part.”

“Try to eat,” and Rauf helped him sit up and gave him a cup of soup. He could sip it without assistance.

“What’re we going to do about my blood price?” Altair asked Rauf once he and Yusuf also had food.

“I can call someone,” Altair made a face, “What?”

“I hate sleeping with strangers,” he said.

Rauf huffed, “Well you could do one of your other methods of payment,” Rauf reminded him.

“I can’t steal anything in this state, and unless you want me to murder your boyfriend that is also out.”

“Then lie,” Rauf said simply, next to him Yusuf was watching this happening with big, slightly terrified, eyes.

“I’d really rather we just bang-

“Hey!” Yusuf protested.

“Kid, I’ve been fucking your boyfriend since you knew what your dick was even for,” And both Rauf and Yusuf turned red.

“You don’t have to say it like that, Altair,” Rauf snapped.

“I just told the truth,” Altair shrugged, “He’s a gentle lover, isn’t he?” he asked Yusuf who was fully red and Rauf looked mortified.

“I should have just let you bleed out in the bathroom,” Rauf told him.

“No you wouldn’t have. Also that worked,” and he finally could shift back to himself.

“What?” Rauf asked, “What the hell Altair? How’d you do that? What did you say?”

“Dude fuck you you were a terrible, asshole, of a lay when we were young.”

Rauf just groaned and pressed his hand to his face. “Altair you fucking asshole.”


	4. Incubi

Altair knew something was serious when he got five rapid fire texts in a row. He was out on his balcony, tending to some of his plants. New York City was bright and cheerful today and Altair was having a nice day off. His texts could wait. He’d only been home from England a few days after living some on Rauf’s couch. He was allowed to go slow since his side still hurt a bit, though he’d mostly healed.

He clipped some of the leaves from a potted plant and then watered it, tossing the leaves off the balcony to drift down to the street. He liked plants. They were simple yet could also be a challenge. Each type needed to be tended to in a certain way and Altair had a routine he went through every morning. He went to the gym, then put the coffee on while he took a shower. He read the news on his iPad while he ate his coffee and had his breakfast and then he tended to his plants. He’d skipped out on the gym the past few days though, in deference to his shot flank. He was a creature of habit and didn’t like being disturbed. Which is why the texts could wait until he was done, he didn’t care how important they were.

He spent another hour or so checking his plants, which hadn’t been happy while he’d been gone and some had been starting to wilt when he came home. Then he picked up his plate and cup from the table outside where he had breakfast and put them in the dish washer. He heard his phone go off a few more times but he didn’t rush to answer it. At least they weren’t calling him like that one time Malik had and he’d gone as Shay.

Altair was just going to get his iPad and phone when the front desk buzzed him. His brow furrowed. Who the hell was that? Not many people knew he lived here. Only a few people, ones he knew long enough to trust with his home.

Curious, he went over to the intercom. “Yes Marvin?” he asked, since he knew all the security guards who watched the front desk. Altair liked Marvin. He looked like a thin Santa Claus with a bald spot and knew everyone in the building and _knew_ Altair didn’t like visitors unless it was a delivery boy.

“Mr. ibn La’Ahad, there’s someone here to see you,” Marvin said.

“Who is it?” he asked, because Altair didn’t want to see them probably.

“He says his name is… Ezio Auditore?”

Altair’s face dropped, “Tell him, in these exact words if you would Marvin, to go fuck himself.”

“I’ll do that,” and there was a brief silence. “He says its important and- hey!”

“Altair,” Ezio’s voice came over the intercom and no doubt Ezio had wrestled the phone away from Marvin.

“You,” Altair’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh don’t be like that,” Ezio said. “Just tell the guard to let me up before I make him do it.”

“You wouldn’t-

“I would. So do it. I don’t have time for games right now.”

“This is precisely the reason I _don’t_ like you Ezio.”

“Is everything all right Mr. ibn La’Ahad?” Marvin’s voice said.

“Let him in,” Altair through clenched teeth.

“All right, sir,” and Marvin hung up. Altair snarled and jerked away from the intercom.

Altair knew plenty of devils. They tended to attract each other. Like Desmond who he’d known for a while and had a very powerful ability akin to possession where he could astro project himself into someone and walk around as them. The blood price was extremely high though and required sacrifices he’d rather not take. That was about as Altair knew about Desmond’s blood price though, he didn’t know the specifics. Rauf was also one, with the power to calm anyone he touched, which was probably why Altair hadn’t felt any panic when he finally got there, and his blood price was easy. He had to cut himself. He knew under his clothes Rauf was covered in tiny scars. There were others of course. He knew dozens, all over the world, some who couldn’t even speak English.

But of them all Ezio was his least favorite.

Ezio’s pact allowed him to manipulate people on a fine scale, able to command them to do whatever he told them to do. Effectively it robbed them of their free will when he wanted to, though most times it was merely a suggestion. Like he’d suggest to someone that they sleep together. Or that someone give him money. Or that someone shoot themselves in the head. You could resist the suggestion if you knew it was coming but most people didn’t. Ezio was also a dangerous devil who liked to use his ability without worry. Altair hated him because his blood price was easy. All Ezio had to do was say sorry and the pact was broken.

There was a knock on Altair’s door. He really contemplated not opening it. More knocking. “C’mon Altair open the door,” Ezio called. Angrily Altair wrenched the door open, “Hi,” Ezio said.

Altair punched him in the face. “That was for the last time we worked together,” Altair snapped at him, furious. No one pissed him off like Ezio did. They worked the same circles, same as him and Malik. But Ezio was in higher demand because he always made it look like an accident. Malik was a normal assassin. Ezio made it an accident. And Altair made it impossible to ever track, he was, effectively, invisible. Sometimes they worked together. Last time Ezio had made Altair get caught by the cops and he’d had to burn one of his skins because now they had a criminal record. He’d never forgiven Ezio of making him unable to use Nathan in Europe after a botched job. Nathan had been Altair’s favorite alias and now he couldn’t use him anymore.

“The fuck Altair… that was like five years ago,” Ezio was slightly bent over, his hand on his cheek. He stood up straight. “Well, you’re chipper.”

Altair glared at him. “What do you want Ezio?” he demanded.

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

“Let me in, it’s a job.”

“Not interested.”

“You haven’t even heard the job yet,” Ezio said.

“Don’t care. Not interested,” and Altair tried to close the door.

“Let me in,” and Altair felt the tug.

Altair kicked. Though he wasn’t wearing any shoes Ezio still howled when the ball of his foot connected with Ezio’s knee. “Don’t even try it Ezio,” Altair snapped.

“You’re right, sorry,” Ezio groaned, now doubled over to hold his knee. “For fuck’s sake Altair. I haven’t seen you in three years and you hit me twice in five minutes.”

“I still hate you,” Altair growled.

“I have a job. I need some help. Please?” Ezio reverted to his pretty face to get Altair to let him in. “Fifty-fifty split.”

Hating himself Altair let Ezio in. Not that Altair was greedy, but he had expenses, sometimes rather high ones, so he needed money. “Talk,” Altair said once the door was closed.

“I have a job I need help with,” Ezio said.

“Why?” Altair asked and folded his arms over his chest.

“I… well, I need a date that can watch my back while I work,” he made a face.

Altair scowled at him, “Why does everyone in the business suddenly need me to be a pair of tits for them?”

“Because you’re a nice- oh that was rhetorical; gotcha,” Ezio winked. Altair rolled his eyes. What a moron.

“What’s the job?”

“Information and espionage,” Altair’s least favorite things to do. “There’s a big benefit dinner in a few days I have a pair of tickets for.”

“Why don’t you just ask some girl to come along?” Altair asked, eyes narrowed.

“Because I need someone to watch my back and none of the lovely ladies in the business will return any of my calls,” and now Altair looked down at his phone. Most of the texts he had were from Ezio and a few from another number he didn’t know. “Pay’s good and it shouldn’t be violent. I just need help getting around and covering for me while I do the thing.”

“How dangerous is this?”

“Why?” Ezio rose a brow at him.

Altair lifted up part of his shirt, “I’m healing still from someone getting a lucky shot on me.”

Ezio winced in sympathy, “It shouldn’t be too dangerous,” he said. “The benefit is for kids-

“This isn’t going to hut them will it?” Altair cut him off, “Cause you know I _do not_ take jobs involving kids.”

“No no, it’s fine. The guy I need is a child trafficker actually. He’s going to be there because he works for a child non-prophet. Basically he’s a dirty bastard. But… I’m not married and my tickets are for me and my wife.”

Altair gave him a dark look, “I hate you.”

“So is that a yes?” Ezio asked him cheerfully.

Altair bit back an angry remark. “Yes,” he said with a scowl, “I’ll help you.”

“Excellent,” Ezio grinned widely. “Do I get to pick what you look like-

“No. Now get out of my house,” and Altair opened the door again.

“Hey-

“Call me the day of,” and Altair shoved Ezio out of his house and closed the door in his face.

—

He really, _really_ , didn’t like the way Ezio was looking at him when he got out of the elevator. He decided to play it up and was using one of his pretty skins. Not Shay. Shay was special and _so_ not for Ezio. Shandra wasn’t pretty enough or Ezio would complain. So he’d brought out one of his skins he didn’t like so much because he had trouble walking in her.

Altair was a man, he _did not_ have the every day practice to walk with hips this wide without concentrating. This girl had been named Vanessa. She was dead now, overdose. He’d known her when she was young. She’d lived fast and hard and had basically killed herself by the time she was twenty-one. They hadn’t been good friends, not good enough for Altair to tell her about his condition as a devil, but enough that Altair knew how to act like her. She was tall and stacked with a narrow waist and a big butt and boobs and looked like a Barbie doll. Altair nearly hated this skin though because he could make Shandra or Shay strut easily but Vanessa was hard to do and he walked like a man when he wasn’t focusing.

Ezio whistled, “Wow,” he said.

“Oh do shut up,” Altair said.

“You look lovely.”

“Don’t be a leech,” Altair spat.

“Of course not,” and Ezio offered Altair his arm. Altair gave him a side eyed look and put Vanessa’s delicate hand on his arm. “I must admit, I’m impressed you can walk in heels that high. I couldn’t do that,” he said once they were outside.

“We all have our talents Ezio. Mine just happen to be more impressive than most,” he said as Ezio led him to a car. Ezio opened the door for him, “I just look like a woman.”

“Yes, yes, I know. But I’m being polite,” Ezio said and giving Ezio the hardest side-eye he could he slid into the front seat. Ezio closed the door once he was inside. “So, what do I call you?” Ezio asked once he was behind the wheel.

Altair played with Vanessa’s hair and was amused that Ezio was completely hypnotized, “Vanessa,” he said with Vanessa’s husky voice.

Ezio took a deep breath, “Well, this is gonna be fun,” and he turned the car on.

—

Altair was sitting on a counter of the bathroom, his heels on the floor under him. He swung Vanessa’s legs back and forth boredly and in the stall he could hear talking but wasn’t paying attention. He was just watching the door and making sure no one came into the bathroom while Ezio worked. He’d decided to take off his heels because they hurt like hell and were taller than the ones he wore as Sandra. Vanessa was a type of girl that _demanded_ high heels you could crush a man’s ego with, and Altair took good care of his usual skins, even one as unused as Vanessa.

“Ezio,” Altair called, “you done yet? I’m bored and want to go home,” out of Vanessa’s mouth it sounded slightly petulant.

“Almost, _dear_ , just a few more minutes.”

“I don’t want to be home late,” he said, “I do have things to do in the morning, _honey_ ,” Altair rolled his eyes.

Ezio stuck his head out of the stall, “I’m working here.”

“Well work faster, I want to go home and get out of this dress.” And then he made a disgusted face when Ezio looked _very_ interested in that.

“Yes, dear,” and he went back into the stall.

Altair hopped off the counter and looked at himself in the mirror and made faces at himself. The door opened and he made a startled noise. “Oh- uh-“ he said, pretending to be caught off guard by the other man.

They looked surprised to see him, “Uh… You realize this is the men’s room right?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry, I couldn’t find the ladies,” which was fair since the ladies restroom was across the main building. “Could you just, give me a minute?” he asked sweetly.

“Sure, sorry,” and the man backed out.

Altair turned to the stall Ezio was in, “Time’s up, you need to finish,” he said bluntly.

“Yeah yeah, I’m done anyway,” Ezio said and Ezio left the stall. Altair leaned down to pick up his shoes and squeaked in surprise and nearly fell forward when Ezio smacked his ass and squeezed.

Altair glared at Ezio before twisting and kicking him right in the gut. Ezio doubled over with a moan of pain. “Try that again and I’ll stomp on your dick,” Altair said smartly and marched out of the bathroom, holding his heels in one hand. The man who’d tried to come into the bathroom before looked at him oddly, slightly afraid. “It’s free,” he said and stomped away.

—

Altair just wanted to shower. He was _never_ doing this again _ever_.

“What, not going to stay?” Ezio asked as Altair wriggled out from under him and got up from bed.

Altair gave Ezio an unimpressed look, “Hell no.”

“What? You enjoyed it, admit it,” Ezio said with a smug smirk. Ezio, however, did not do smug very well without looking like a creep.

“Ezio,” he tapped Ezio’s chin, “I haven’t enjoyed sex since I was sixteen. So don’t think you’re anything remarkable.”

Ezio scowled at him, “No way, everyone loves having sex with me.”

“Stupid everyone loves having sex with you because you tell them they do.”

“I do not.”

“Do so.”

“Do not.”

“Do so.”

“Do not.”

“You tried to do it _to me_ ,” and Altair whapped him on the head before getting dressed in a spare change of clothes he had. “If I’m an incubus you’re one too, and those sorts of devils don’t mix well.”

“Aww, c’mon Altair, don’t be like that,” and Altair smacked his hand when he reached out to grab Altair’s wrist.

“Fuck you. Fuck yourself. I’m going home. I expect the money to be wired to my account by the end of the week or I’m coming back here to put your nuts in a vice.”

“Such a sweet talker,” Ezio smirked.

Altair scowled at him, “I hate you. Goodbye,” and he walked out of Ezio’s room.

“So I can keep these?” Altair turned around and saw Ezio was holding the underwear he’d been wearing as Vanessa. They were cute. Not Altair’s favorites though.

“It’s about as close as you’ll ever get to having sex with again. So sure. Jerk off to them for all I care; weirdo,” and he left, slamming both Ezio’s bedroom door and his front door on his way out.


	5. A Level of Respect

Normally, Altair didn’t do his own grocery shopping. He just had his groceries delivered once a week. He knew his food deliverer by name, Henri, with an I, and a lisp with bad teeth. Nice enough guy. Altair had never touched him though. Some people Altair _refrained_ from touching. He didn’t wan to be them, he didn’t want to even accidentally get the chance to be them.

Today though Altair was doing his own grocery shopping. Rather he was having someone over and hadn’t been prepared for their dietary needs. He hadn’t had time to get more food delivered. So he was at the local Whole Foods, looking at something they said was cheese, but wasn’t made with milk. He didn’t understand vegans. He really, _really_ , didn’t. Why would you limit your food choices by choosing to not eat meat? But whatever they were vegan and he was nothing if not a good host.

He was in the pasta section, looking at the back of a box to make sure it didn’t have gluten, when something flashed in his peripheral. Altair’s head jerked up, instantly alert.

“I thought it was you,” and they smiled.

Altair searched his mental catalogue of people he knew for her. Brown hair, pretty, a hint of a dimple in her right cheek, fantastic eyebrows, light brown eyes, peachy skin, wore perfectly fitted business suits with pencil skirts sharp enough to cut a man and a smile that looked like it belonged on a fox: “Maria,” he said, surprised to see her. “I didn’t know you were in the City.”

“Ah well, I go where the boss tells me,” she said nicely. “Throwing a party?” she asked, looking at his cart. “Or are you going vegan and I’m the last to know?”

Altair grimaced, “No. I’m having a friend over-

“You? A friend? Now I’ve heard everything,” he scowled at her. “I’m just teasing,” and he moved his hand when she reached to pat it. To him there were two reasons Altair didn’t touch someone. One was because he didn’t want to be them, the other was he respected them too much to ever wear them. He didn’t want to be Maria because he respected her. She helped him fairly often, and didn’t ask questions about why he needed her to do it, just that he did, and he needed it done yesterday. 

Her mouth went thin when he didn’t allow her to touch him and she swallowed. “So, who are they?” she asked tightly.

“No one you know,” he said, “Or maybe you do,” he shrugged, “Very wealthy and post, but an _absolute_ idiot.” 

She laughed at that. “Ah yes, I know _all_ about those kinds,” she assured him.

On a whim he said, “Perhaps you’d like to come?”

“Oh Altair I couldn’t-

“Nonsense. Might prevent me from poisoning them for making me cook… vegan,” he made a face.

She laughed again, Maria had such a nice laugh. “All right. I’ve never seen your place.”

“I’ll text you the address,” he promised her.

“Is it tonight?” he nodded, “Well, I did have some plans, but a chance to see the mysterious Altair’s condo? I am intrigued,” though Altair knew she was lying. He knew a good deal about everyone he called friends, so he knew how much he could trust them. Maria was married to her work as a senior partner at a top firm in the entire country out of D.C. and if she was here it was because of business. She had nothing going on, and even back in D.C. she had few friends and didn’t have much of a social life outside of what she was required to have to impress clients. She didn’t have any plans tonight.

Altair let her believe he’d believed her, “Well if you’re sure-

“It’ll be fine, they’ll understand,” she assumed him.

“All right, now I need to finish this shopping,” he pointed at his cart. “What are you getting here?”

“My health bars,” she said awkwardly.

Altair chuckled, “You don’t need them,” he told her and patted her shoulder, where his skin didn’t touch her skin. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he smiled at her.

“Yeah, see you at dinner,” she smiled. They parted ways and Altair didn’t worry about the gluten. They could suck it the fuck up.

—

Altair was sauteing mushrooms and onions when he got a call from the front desk. “What is it Marvin?” Altair asked into the intercom.

“Sir, a woman by the name of Maria Thorpe is here to see you. Shall I let her up?”

Altair stood there in his pajamas and no shoes, staring at the intercom. He’d forgotten to tell Maria the dinner was canceled. His client he was hosting had canceled last moment. Altair had never been more happy to throw food away than to get all that vegan shit out of his condo. But he’d overlooked telling Maria. And now she was here, expecting dinner.

“Sir?” Marvin asked when Altair didn’t answer.

“Yes. Show her up Marvin, thank you,” and he released the intercom. He took the pan off the heat and went into his room, throwing open his closet. He expected Maria to come in a suit, like she went to everything in. So at the very least he could offer the same. He pulled out one of his nice ones, from a tailor in Boston he liked, that cost more than most people’s cars. He put a lavender shirt under it, no tie, but he did put on the waist coat because if Altair owned a suit, damn right it was a three piece.

He had just buttoned his cuffs when the door bell rang. Altair grabbed the jacket and went to get it. He slid the jacket on before opening the door. “Oh,” he said, surprised when he saw Maria. She wasn’t wearing a suit like he’d thought she would. She was wearing a red and white strapless dress, and red heels that put the fear of god in man.

“I’m not late am I?” she asked.

“No,” Altair felt off balance. He’d never seen Maria in anything but perfectly tailored suits before. She was _Hot_. Well she was always hot, but this was Hot with a capital H. He didn’t know what to do with this new information.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Yes… sorry, I just… you look amazing,” he told her, stepping out of the way. The sound of her heels on his wood floors made his spine tingle as she walked into his home.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. He knew she normally wore makeup, but that color lipstick? Altair could literally not stop staring. “Where’s your friend?”

“H-he had to cancel,” Altair said and closed the door.

“So its just us?”

“Yes… well I forgot you were coming, so I need to do some cooking.”

“You cook?” she asked.

“Of course I cook,” Altair said, offended she would think he didn’t. “I prefer home cooked to anything but five star restaurants. You don’t have any allergies do you?”

“Shellfish,” she said.

Altair made a face, “I don’t eat seafood, you’ll be safe,” and he led her to the kitchen. Altair took off his jacket and hung it up on the back of a stool. Maria sat on the other one, folding one leg over her knee elegantly, sitting poised like a statue of a goddess.

“So what are you making?” she asked.

“I was just going to do a simple alfredo, since it was just me. Do you object?”

“Nope, that sounds wonderful,” she smiled.

“Alright, thankfully I made extra sauce then,” and Altair put the onions and mushrooms back on the heat. “You look very fancy tonight,” he said.

“I didn’t know how to dress. I figured if it was at your place-“ she shrugged.

“Well you certainly wouldn’t be overdressed,” Altair said, “My ‘friend’ is also my client.”

“No one I know though,” Maria smiled a little.

“Maybe,” he waved his hand dispellingly, “I don’t like to talk about work when I’m home. Brings in bad vibes,” and dead vibes, but, whatever.

“All right, then what do you want to talk about?” and she leaned forward on the bar. Altair was very aware of her cleavage, and that she was doing it _specifically_ so he would see. To him it was like looking at the sky. Breasts happened and he dealt with them on a more personal level then most men ever did. Women were so useless and unaware of them sometimes. To them they were constant, and while nice, usually weren’t always worth more than a courtesy glance, and they expected men to react a certain way to them. To Altair it was just another body part and like most body parts, he didn’t find anything that ‘sexy’ about them. Which is why he didn’t look at Maria’s. He was more interested in her dress and soul crushing heels.

“What are you doing here in New York?” he asked.

“Work, which we already agreed we weren’t going to talk about,” she said, smiling slyly.

“Yes, we did,” he said. “How’s your mother?”

—

Dinner was good, easy, and tasty. Maria was still surprised Altair could cook and insisted on helping Altair clean up. There wasn’t a lot to clean up though, as Altair was very clean even when cooking. But she helped load the dishwasher and clean the pans and pots in the sink. Altair was aware of his relation to her at all times, since they were moving together in a tighter space than they were usually in.

Maria handed Altair the last pan, which he hung up on the rack. When he looked back at her she was sort of frowning, sort of scowling at him. “Something the matter?” he asked.

“I don’t know, you tell me. I thought I was imagining it before.”

“Imagining what?”

“You don’t touch people,” she said, “Heaven knows you’ve barely touched me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you even shake someone’s hand.” Altair leaned against the counter. “Why don’t you?” she asked him.

“I like my space,” he said simply, shrugging.

“And yet you don’t have a problem with personal space… just touching,” she said and stepped around the open dishwasher over to him. He didn’t move when she reached out and touched his shirt covered chest.

“You were saying?” he asked.

She frowned at him, “But you don’t,” and she went to touch his hand, he moved it away from her fingers unthinkingly. “See. Why do you do that?” she asked, still so close. Her lipstick had faded some over dinner and up close he could see how meticulously she’d applied her make up for tonight. She wanted to impress him.

Altair mulled it over. He had to be careful who he told about his pact. Most of those in the know were other devils, very few humans knew, and he always had to be careful about which ones he told. He had to be able to trust them. Every devil faced this same choice when faced with the decision to tell a human. Could he trust Maria?

He hoped he could.

“Because I don’t make a habit of touching humans unless I need them,” he said.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“I’m a Devil, Maria,” he said, and stood up straight, he couldn’t help but loom as even with her heels she was shorter than him.

He watched her eyes change, subtle at first, and then quicker. It went from confusion, to bewilderment, to actual fear. She took a sharp step away from him. Altair didn’t go after her. “Y-you’re one of them?” she stammered.

“I am,” he said, “What are you going to do with that information?”

Altair knew Maria knew that if she misstepped here she’d wind up dead. She didn’t know _what_ exactly Altair did, but when he called it was to ask about how to get out of a jam, or how much jail time something he was doing would cost him if he was caught. She knew Altair was a dangerous man. And he was a Devil, and she had no idea what his pact was. It could be anything.

“You’re not dangerous unless provoked,” she said.

“Am I now?” he asked, eyes sharp.

She swallowed, “If you wanted to hurt me you could have done it by now, so yes,” she said softly. “I won’t tell anyone,” she promised.

“That’s right you won’t,” he said. “Or I’ll come visit you. And it won’t be as nice as dinner has been.”

“I won’t tell,” she promised again. Altair relaxed, letting her breathe, and she seemed reassured because now he didn’t look like he was about to snap her neck. Her curiosity quickly got the better of her. “What are you?” she asked.

“I’m a Devil-

“I mean, what can you do?”

“I’m a shapeshifter,” he said.

“A shape- oh my god, that’s amazing,” she said and a smile formed on her lips. “Can you do it?” she asked.

“I don’t want to,” Altair said.

“Why not?”

“Because my blood price is annoying and cumbersome,” he said.

“Why won’t you touch me?” she asked.

“I have to touch someone before I can turn into them. Its why I don’t shake people’s hands, or touch their skin.”

“Why? Cause we’re icky humans?” she asked.

“Yes. Because I respect my body more than I respect your need for social norms,” Altair said. “I never forget a form. I don’t touch humans  so I don’t have to pretend to me one. I could walk around the City with your face. Your body. Your voice. I am an expert mimic, no one would ever know I wasn’t you.”

“So what? You go around in life without human contact?” she asked.

“I touch those as I need them,” he said. “I have many forms.”

“Show me,” she said, sort of eagerly. “I want to see what the scary Devil can do,” and now she seemed almost turned on. It was the appeal of the unknown, the danger of knowing a Devil. He was dangerous, and she loved it.

Altair contemplated her for several moments, “You will pay my blood price then,” he said.

“Which is?” she asked.

He sighed, “I must commit a cardinal sin,” he said. “Lie, murder, sex, theft.”

“Well I can think of one of those I can help you with,” Maria said cunningly.

Altair wasn’t impressed. He shifted into the first person that came to mind. Malik, he’d done a job with him recently so he was an easy mark. He and Malik were also the same height and general build, so he wouldn’t ruin his suit. “Who’s that?” she asked.

“An associate,” he said with Malik’s voice.

“That was… amazing to watch, do it again,” she grinned.

Altair reached out and brushed his knuckles against her cheek, down the line of her jaw to her chin. As he did he shifted, taking on her form. He shrank and his clothes felt too big. “How’s that?” he asked with her voice, her cute dimple showing when he smiled.

“So you can be women too?” she asked, he nodded. “I’m pretty hot,” she said looking him over.

“You could say that,” he said and shifted back into Malik, because he didn’t like the feeling of his clothes being so baggy on him.

“So what was that about a blood price?” she grinned.

“Sex,” he said.

“So I get to have sex with a hot guy who can turn into a bunch of hot guys,” her grin turned into a smirk. “Sounds like fun,” and she reached up to gently grab his lapels. By the look on her face she looked excited about it. Altair didn’t want to disappoint her, but he was so unenthusiastic about this. Sex was, usually, so god damn uninteresting and just something he _did_ because he had to. He didn’t even normally enjoy it, or give a crap if his partner enjoyed it either.

He decided he’d at least try this time. Because he liked Maria, not like her infatuation with him, but he liked her well enough. “It can be,” Altair said and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Wanna try?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” she grinned.

He tugged her towards his bedroom, he’d finish the dishes when they were done.


	6. Ta-Bitjet

Hospitals weren’t places Altair liked. Research on Devil bodies was limited, and according to most people you asked humans didn’t consider Devils human, thus were free range to medical testing like they were rats. Altair spent more time putting people in the hospital or  just outright straight into a morgue. He didn’t go to hospitals. He certainly didn’t have tender enough thoughts about anyone to come visit them in the hospital.

But there were always exceptions to Altair’s rules.

When he got off the plane in Seattle, it was raining, which was a surprise to absolutely no one. Altair walked straight off the plane to the rental dealerships, since he wouldn’t be here long. He’d gotten a message while he was home and had barely packed a carry on, before getting on the first nonstop flight to Seattle from New York. And now some hours later, here he was.

Altair used his phone to find the hospital he was going to, and it didn’t take him long to get there. Once inside it was a simple matter of a lie to fool the nurses and then he was being shown to the room he was didn’t want to enter. But he did.

Adha was lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to a few, quietly beeping, machines. All the hair on her head had fallen out and his chest tightened. “Altair,” she smiled when she saw him. He closed the door behind him softly. She didn’t _look_ sick, but if she was here and bald it meant one of two things. Her cancer had come back or she’d done something _stupid_.

He sat in the chair next to her bed, “Nothing to say?” she asked him.

“Which is it?” he asked her.

She smiled a little, a sad one, and glanced down, “My cancer came back,” she said. Altair swore. “It isn’t that bad-

“No duh,” Altair said harshly. “Why are you even here? Why did I have to get that call… why am _I_ even your call?” he asked her helplessly.

She swallowed, “I don’t have anyone else,” she said softly. “My parents are dead. All my friends are humans. Rauf lives… in _Oxford_. I had no one else to call.”

Altair ran his hand through his hair with a groan. Altair had grown up with, as insane and improbable as it was, two other Devil children. Most Devils never had that, they were alone in their community, the only one they knew being whatever relative they’d inherited the ability from. Altair had had two others growing up. One was Rauf, since they were boys. The other was Adha, who’d moved into their neighborhood when they were a bit older, their abilities having matured when they went through puberty.

Adha had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of lung cancer when they’d been teenagers. She’d been given four months to live when her abilities had finally bloomed and her first pact had been struck. Adha was the most powerful healer Altair had ever seen, and the most destructive. She’d cleansed herself of her cancer, but doing so meant she’d had to give it to someone else. They hadn’t known that at the time. A nurse had died from Adha’s disease instead. Adha could transfer wellness and sickness from herself to others. Her pact and blood price was that she could never make everyone well. For someone to be well, another had to be sick.

“Why are you sick?” he asked her and reached out as if to take her hand. But he hesitated and pulled back before touching her. He’d never touched Adha, not like Rauf. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to be her.

“I told you-

“Then make yourself _well_ ,” he said. “You haven’t had a problem with this since we were kids. And now… its back?” he saw guilt flash through her eyes. Her face went slack, “You took it from someone,” he said.

“No I-

“You’re lying. You can’t lie to me Adha. No one can lie to me.”

She sighed and leaned back on the bed, “There was a little boy. He’s six, and had bone tumors. There’s no cure. I took his sickness.”

“So now you have bone tumors. _Fantastic_ ,” he growled.

She looked at him, “I haven’t enacted my pact in a long time Altair,” she said. And then suddenly she smiled, “And I knew if I was sick, you’d come.”

“You could call,” he said he said helplessly.

“You hate talking on the phone,” Adha tugged on the cuff of his jacket sleeve. “And I don’t like texting.”

“I would have talked to you,” Altair said.

“And what would I have said?” she asked. “‘Altair I’m lonely and miss my friends’? I don’t think so.”

“You didn’t do all this just so I would come,” he said.

“No,” she agreed, “But I knew you would. You wouldn’t come otherwise.” He opened his mouth to disagree, “I haven’t seen you since college,” she said, “even when I invited you,” he closed his mouth. They didn’t say anything for a long time. “I got a call from Rauf a few months ago when you did that thing in Oxford and ended up shot on his doorstep. He said you were fine.”

“I am fine,” he said.

She blinked at him slowly, “I’m fine too,” she said.

“Make yourself better,” he said.

“I don’t want to,” she turned away from him, looking at the far wall.

“What? Why not?” he demanded.

“Because this disease I have is a killer,” she said, “if I gave it to someone else, they’d die-

“So?” Altair snapped. “Who cares, they’re just-“ he forced his voice lower, “They’re just _human_. Why should you sacrifice yourself to save one of them?” he demanded in a harsh whisper.

“Because that’s what I am,” she said.

“No,” he said, angry still. “Humans have made us all think how bad we are. Don’t you remember what we _were_?”

She smiled a little, fond, smile at him, “Yes,” she said, “Humans used to worship our kind like gods. That time is over though Altair. And now humans just see us as vermin.”

“Exactly. So why are you helping them?”

“Because I have an amazing gift to do so-

“You have a gift to be healthy,” Altair growled. “Everyone in the world grows sick, gets ill, catches colds. You don’t. We don’t even know how great your ability is Adha,” she’d never tested it, if she could take from so many sources, if she could just cancel out the sickness entirely. They didn’t know, Adha was _afraid_ of her pact. She was a carrier of plagues in her body. With a look she could give everyone her disease and push it off herself, or she could concentrate it into one person and accelerate it, destroy them in moments. Or she could heal and take the sickness onto her. If she didn’t pass it on of course she’d die, but she could heal so many and just kill one. She was a walking biological bomb and it _terrified_ _her_.

“Altair-

“Why did you call me?” he asked her. “Did you do it so I could sit here and watch you die? Because I won’t. Make yourself well. Who cares about a few humans? They’re seven billion strong, _we’re_ the endangered species here.”

“You sound like your grandfather,” she said and that brought Altair up short. “He hated most humans so much, especially after what they did to your parents.”

“What they’d do to _us_ if they found out,” Altair said. “My parents were human and they still got killed anyway,” Adha didn’t meet his eyes. Growing up during the end of the Cold War there had been a lot of frantic feelings towards communists, but also towards Devils. If you even mentioned someone _might_ be a Devil often times vigilante justice was evoked. 

Altair had lost both his parents to arsons who’d burned down his house after trapping his parents inside. He’d been at a sleepover at Rauf’s that night so had been spared. After that his grandfather had never been the same, and Altair hadn’t felt like he needed to love humans either. Adha’s father had been caught in a hit and run hate crime, since he _had_ been the Devil in her family. He’d been hit, run over, and then the car had run over him a second time before fleeing the scene. Both cases were still unsolved and never would be because they involved Devils.

“I have no love for humans,” Altair growled, “And I don’t know why you do either.”

“Humans didn’t kill my father,” Adha said, “ _hateful_ people did. But I don’t blame all of humanity for his death like Rashid did with the fire. And I don’t know why I called you now,” she looked away from him. “Its just the same as the last time we saw each other.”

“You were sick then too,” he said, “Rauf called me and told me to get there because he couldn’t.”

“And you had the _same_ anger. Still expected me to be okay with potentially killing people. I know its what you do, but I don’t have that strong of a stomach,” her voice trembled as she spoke.

“You don’t deserve to die for them. _They_ don’t deserve to have someone like you die for them,” he said.

“Then who does?” she asked, “I have an amazing gift, we all do. You use yours to kill people, I’m afraid of mine, and Rauf-“ she drifted off. “Rauf can’t help himself.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of it,” Altair said and moved to sit on the side of her bed now. “You’re a Devil, you are the superior species on this planet. Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. We have power humans only dream about, there is the blood price, but I could look like anyone in the world I wanted in an instant,” he said. “And you could heal this entire hospital for the sake of one life.”

“You don’t know that-

“You don’t know you couldn’t,” he said. “Its a gift, and you don’t know what you can do. Adha… Why do you do this to yourself?”

She looked up at him, “How else can I get you to visit me?” He frowned at her, “I’m not giving the bone tumors away. And I still have my lung cancer,” she said. 

Altair growled. “So what? You’re going to die then?” he demanded.

“Probably,” she said, not looking at him again.

“Well I’m not going to stay here and watch.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” she asked him, “You’re so far away. You won’t even touch me.”

“You know why I won’t,” Altair said blandly.

“Some gift,” she said.

“Adha, _please_ , don’t kill yourself like this.”

“I’m doing good Altair. I made that little boy and his family happy.”

“What about your happiness Adha?” he demanded. “You deserve that too. I don’t know why I’m asking, but is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

“Probably not,” she said.

He glared at her a moment, angry with her for doing this. This didn’t have to happen. He didn’t have to be here. “I won’t come to your funeral,” he told her.

“I know you won’t,” she said.

They sat in silence, both in their own thoughts. Altair knew he wouldn’t get a second chance to convince her. He wouldn’t get a second chance to do a lot of things if he didn’t make her see right. Make her know that she was allowed to be selfish and want things, like wanting to live and wanting to be healthy.

“Just think about it okay?” Altair asked her.

“In a few months you’ll know my decision, one way, or another,” she said stoically.

He reached out and cupped her face with his hand. She gave him a startled look, blinking at him a few times. He’d never touched her. He’d _never_ touched her. Not in all the years he’d known her. Now he was and after a moment she turned into his hand, reaching up to hold it against her cheek. Altair let it linger there, because he might not see her again. She might let her own kindness kill her.

“Don’t leave me,” he said softly and stroked his thumb across her cheek before manning the fuck up and leaning over to kiss her. Her lips were dry but he barely noticed. She kissed him back and it was wonderful.

But it didn’t last. He pulled away from her slowly and licked his lips before standing. “Altair-

“That’s all I got,” he said. “Decide whatever you want, I’m going home,” and with that he left the hospital room before she could stop him. His mind was buzzing as he walked out of the hospital, back to his rental car, and got in.

He sat behind the wheel for a while, the rain had turned into a miserable, misty, drizzle, hating himself. Normally he didn’t participate in self loathing, it was beneath him. But right now he was just angry with himself, and with Adha, though he couldn’t exactly put into words as to _why_. He just was.

After a few minutes he looked up and stared at himself in the rearview mirror and realized why he was angry. He was good looking, wealthy, had a secure life and home, had power and not a little bit infamy. He cold get anyone he wanted. He knew plenty of men and women alike who’d gladly sleep with him, even _be_ with him. He cold get whoever he wanted. Except the _one girl_ he fucking wanted. She wasn’t impressed by his powers or his job or his money or his looks. She knew what he was, she knew his anger, his strangeness, his short comings. She knew he was a facade and saw right through him. He didn’t know if she cared though. About any of it.

Knowing her it wouldn’t make a difference. Adha was an independent woman, always had been. She’d do whatever she wanted, whatever she felt was best for her, regardless of what other people thought. Altair could only do so much convincing before it didn’t matter. Adha would do what Adha had always done and Altair would have to deal with it.

Altair frowned to his reflection and finally turned the car on. He headed for the airport to catch the first nonstop flight to New York he could.


	7. The Next Generation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I have a patreon page](http://shotgunsandstars.tumblr.com/tagged/patreon). If you love my work I could really use your support!

It was sunny in Massachusetts, and the air was warm. He was waiting in one of the outside sitting areas of a nice restaurant near the North End in Boston. His eyes tracked people as they walked past, unable to help himself. That boy walked with a limp, slight, but there, a bad hip. The girl with the heels had a hickey on her neck like a vampire had put it there. The man in the suit, who bent over to pick something he’d dropped from the ground, was wearing lady’s underwear. The group of teens that walked by all had blood shot eyes from smoking and the group that walked behind them in pink vests were all ready to go to work, upbeat and looking for Red Bull. He saw a lot of things from behind his darkly tinted sunglasses, things most people wouldn’t notice at first glance.

Altair was waiting for his new client. He’d gotten an email from his middle man about it and he’d set it up. Altair didn’t normally take new clients, he was quite happy with the ones he already had. But this one interested him. It was a US Senator. All sorts of things could come from one of those.

He checked his phone, looking at the clock. They weren’t late, he was just early. The waitress made a pass by his table but he just waved her off lightly and she paused only long enough to fill his water glass again before carrying on.

A minute to the mark after their scheduled time a man sat in the chair opposite him. He was an older man, though his hair was still brown, but starting to silver, and he had an old world face with a distinctly shaped nose. There were fine lines on his face, around his mouth and eyes and his forehead but his eyes were sharp and clever and for some reason Altair took a liking to him.

“Mr. Kenway, at last,” Altair didn’t reach out to shake his hand.

“King,” Haytham said and looked like he was about to offer his hand, but then seemed to think better of it. Currently Altair was wearing the skin of one Joshua King, a black man who was thin as a skeleton, shaved his head, and had perfect white teeth. Joshua King lived in South Africa as a flooring salesman, Altair had liked him because he had a very particular way of speaking where he could convince you of anything. Also Altair had liked his accent. “How long have you been here?”

“A few minutes,” Altair said, rolling Joshua’s accent around in his mouth as he spoke. “Axel said you wanted to see me.”

“Well, I wanted to see someone who could help me,” he said.

“Oh? And what sort of help do you need, Senator?” Altair asked.

Haytham shifted in his chair and leaned forward a bit, “The devil sort,” he said lowly, “I was told you… knew of such things.”

“I may,” Altair was wary now.

“Axel said you knew one,” Haytham continued, “Whoever they are, that’s who I would rather be talking to.”

“And why is that?” he asked, “Need a prop for that bill you’re pushing?” One that would give devils rights over their powers and let them move more freely with them. All devils lived in secret, to be known was to invite tragedy, even in this day and age. Shit it was more acceptable to sleep with men than it was for him to be a devil. Before Christianity it would have been better to be born a devil than anything. You were respected, loved, and even the lowest goat herd could be a prince if he was a devil. At least Haytham wasn’t trying to deny devils more rights, since being found to be a devil was grounds to get terminated from your job, denied loans, kicked out of your apartment, or forced to drop out of school. Altair would have killed Haytham then and there if he had been, no questions asked or money needed.

“No,” Haytham said, “I… my _family_ , needs help,” he said rather uselessly.

“Oh? What sort of help can a devil give a Senator’s family?” Altair cocked his head to the side a little.

The worry lines in Haytham’s forehead formed, “I have a son,” Altair nodded, he knew that from his research of Haytham before meeting with him. “And he… well he…

“He’s one of them?” Altair asked. Haytham nodded slowly. “How old is he?”

“Fourteen,” Haytham said, “It just started and it isn’t like devils are exactly easy to track down. They’re nearly impossible to tell apart from humans except when they enact their pact.”

Altair chuckled, “Oh, you have _no_ idea Senator,” he said.

“Axel said you know a guy.”

“I might,” Altair shrugged.

“I want to employ him.”

“To do what exactly?” Altair rose his brows at Haytham.

“We don’t know what his blood price is,” Haytham was speaking softly, so others wouldn’t overhear, and Altair was leaning on the table now, watching Haytham behind his shades. “And he doesn’t know how to control it. I was hoping… they could teach him,” Haytham said uselessly.

The waitress came by and asked if Haytham wanted some water. She poured some for him and asked if they needed anything. Altair dismissed her saying not right then. “Well I can tell you Mr. Kenway,” Altair said, “I don’t represent a devil,” and Haytham looked a bit chest fallen, “I am a devil.”

Haytham only swallowed, but didn’t flinch. “You are?”

“As dastardly as they come,” Altair smirked with Joshua’s face. “Now tell me about your boy.”

“Like I said he’s fourteen, and just recently his abilities have started to evolve. He uses them and prompted collapses into a deep sleep. When he wakes up he’s fine.”

“What are his abilities?” Altair asked.

“So far we know he can turn invisible, and he can teleport,” Haytham said. “And after he’s done them both he just falls asleep for about half an hour.”

“Hmm,” Altair said thoughtfully. “No blood price?”

“There has to be one. He was invisible once for twenty-six hours, and then he finally fell asleep exhausted. He woke up visible.”

Altair leaned back, “So you want me to help your son?” Haytham nodded. Devils weren’t so common that you could just ignore a new one when they popped up. His grandfather had told him that it was every devil’s duty to train the next generation, so they weren’t afraid of what they were, so they could control themselves. A devil without control over their pact, or with a poor understanding of their blood price, could hurt others, or themselves. “What are you willing to pay for my services?”

“Anything,” Haytham said, “I know you live in New York, you can stay here with us while you’re helping my son. How much do you want?”

Altair thought a long time on what that number could be. “I have a rate,” Altair said, “Per job, that usually lasts anywhere from three to five days. You will pay that, every five days, for as long as I’m with your son.”

“What’s the rate?” Haytham asked.

“Fifty thousand dollars,” Altair said and he saw Haytham flinch, but he didn’t balk. “My services are premium, Mr. Kenway,” he said. “I have many clients who all know that when I do something, it is done exactly as ordered and done so in a quick and orderly fashion. They all know I am worth my price tag.”

Haytham looked pained, “All right,” he said, “fifty.”

“Once your son no longer needs my guidance you can stop paying.”

“How long will that take?” Haytham asked.

“However long it takes,” Altair said. “Unless your son’s control isn’t important to you? Part of the bill you’re trying to pass includes a mandatory registration of devils into a database, along with training for their abilities. Do you read super hero comics?”

“No?” Haytham asked, confused.

“Maybe you should,” Altair said. “Marvel Civil War, forced registration didn’t turn out too good for the humans in that one. And unlike super heros, most devils are self serving.”

“Including you?”

“I’m doing this for the money,” Altair said and pulled out his wallet. He thumbed through a few of the cards and pulled out one that was simple white card stock with a phone number on it and under it was a routing number. He offered it to Haytham. “I start as soon as the first payment has been wired to my account.”

“How do I know you’re really a devil?” Haytham asked as he took the card slowly. Altair shifted his arm and grabbed Haytham by the wrist.

“I am,” Altair said through Haytham’s mouth. Haytham’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates staring at himself. Altair shifted back into Joshua and released Haytham’s wrist. “When I see you again I won’t look like this,” he said. “Call me when the money’s been wired and tell me where you need me to be. I’ll come,” and he stood up, adjusting his clothes and walked out of the restaurant.

—

The house was in the middle of the state, out in the woods. It wasn’t a mansion, it was just a very large house. A groundskeeper was tending the plants when Altair pulled up into the driveway and got out, wearing his own skin. He appraised the house, the front gardens. The groundskeeper looked at him briefly before going back to what he was going.

He went up to the door and rang the door bell. The door opened, “Hello?” asked a boy, tall for his age but not taller than Altair. His hair was messy and black and his face was covered in freckles.

“Hello,” Altair said, “my name is Altair. Is Haytham home?”

“Uh, yeah,” and he turned into the house, “Dad!” he called. “Come on in,” he opened the door for Altair and he walked in. Connor looked tired, bone weary, like he’d been staying awake a lot.

Haytham showed up a few moments later. “Ah, Altair, good to see you,” this time Altair did shake Haytham’s hand. “Connor, this is Altair.”

“I know,” Connor said, in a typical teenager way.

“He’s a devil,” Haytham continued and Connor’s eyes got wide.

“What’s he doing here?” Connor asked, and swallowed.

“He’s here to teach you, son,” Haytham said.

“But I haven’t done anything recently,” Connor said, sounding petrified.

Altair frowned, “You don’t need to be afraid,” he said, “Of me, or yourself.”

“I’m not afraid!” Connor insisted.

Altair wasn’t impressed with him, he looked at Haytham, “You can show me around later,” he said. “I’d like to begin now.”

“All right,” Haytham said slowly.

“If you’d excuse us,” he added.

“Dad-

“It’ll be fine, Connor,” Haytham said soothingly.

“Yeah but-

“Connor. We talked about this,” he said sternly.

Connor pursed his lips, “All right.”

“Good. If you need anything, just let me know,” Haytham told Altair before leaving, though clearly with some reluctance.

“Where’s someplace we can sit down?” Altair asked Connor.

“The living room, its this way,” and Connor showed him into the room. Altair sat on a couch, Connor sat on a big chair opposite him and sat cross legged on it. “You’re really a devil?”

“Yes,” Altair said.

“You don’t look like one.”

“Neither do you. And yet here we are,” Altair made a vague hand motion. “Before we start, there are some things you need to realize. You are not human. You were not born human. You will never be human. You are a devil. No matter how badly you clearly don’t want to be a devil; you are a devil. It means you can be trusted more readily than humans with our secrets.”

“Like what?” Connor asked.

“Our pacts,” Altair said. “The pact is what sets us apart from humans, what makes us _more_ than human, better than them. If a devil trusts you enough to tell you the details of their pact you must _never_ break that trust. Do not tell anyone, not their family, not your best friend. Our pact is our life and we cannot afford to have humans know us without our consent. I know devils who have resorted to murder when someone, both devil and human, have tried to blackmail them by saying they’d reveal them.”

“But why would they do that?” Connor frowned.

“Because pacts are power, just as they are for us. The pact is a part of you, and you don’t have to be afraid of it.”

“I’m not-

“When was the last time you slept?” Connor didn’t answer. “Afraid you’ll wake up invisible? Or somewhere you didn’t fall asleep?” Connor nodded slowly.  “The first few months or year when your abilities develop are the scariest times,” Altair said, “Its alright to be afraid, but you can’t _stay_ afraid.”

“Were you scared?”

“I was,” Altair said.

Connor hesitated, “What can you do?”

“I’m a shapeshifter. I can take on the appearance and voice of people I touch, at will. I was fifteen the first time it happened and I shifted into my best friend, a fellow devil. I was so afraid because I didn’t know how to change back, and no one knew what my blood price was. But we figured it out, and now I control it. I don’t let my pact control me, which is what all devils must do,” briefly he thought of Adha. She was so afraid of her gift, and let it control her, let it dictate what she let herself do.

“How did you find out what your pact was?” Connor asked.

“My grandfather was a devil. He trained me, and figured out my blood pact.”

“Well how do you figure it out?”

“You have to see it,” Altair said. “Devils know devils and when a devil enacts their pact around you you can _taste_ it. Some devils I know say they can feel it. But it is a physical stimuli to our bodies, reacting towards the pact being enacted.”

“So you’ll be able to figure out my blood price?”

“Yes,” Altair said. “But you need to enact your pact.”

“I don’t know how.”

Altair smiled a little, “And that is entirely the reason I’m here, Connor.”


	8. Abel

Altair collected his mail. He was finally back from central Mass for the most part. The young Devil was progressing quickly, which Altair didn’t find surprising. Once you learned how to control your pact it became as intuitive as breathing. Now after nearly a month he could get along fairly well and Altair didn’t need to baby sit him all the time. That meant he was free to take new jobs and do something that wouldn’t make his hair turn grey.

A lot of his mail was junk and he just threw it right into his recycling bin. What wasn’t junk he put down to look at later and checked his plants. They were furious with him for leaving them and having someone else come and water them in the morning. He checked them over to make sure they were all still healthy and pruned a dead leaves or leaves he didn’t want. Some of his plants had taken his absence as an excuse to grow new branches where he didn’t let them. He cut them back and watered them, talking to them in a quiet, gentle tone he normally didn’t use on anyone. 

He honestly treated his plants like his children. Adha would probably never come around, so it was about as close as he’d ever get to having any. Not that he didn’t want any. Two Devils always bred more Devils, and the world could _always_ use more Devils.

For a moment he lost himself in the thought. He thought of Adha, bringing her face into crystal clear clarity in his mind’s eye. But not the sick, bald, version of her. That was the false version of her. The version humans saw and pitied. No, he saw Adha when she was young, the last time he’d seen her before he’d gone to visit her at the hospital. She’d still been in school, getting her masters. Before that he hadn’t seen her since her step father had kicked him out when he’d been eighteen.

After his parents had been murdered Altair had lived with his grandfather, Rashid. The Devil that had taught both him and Rauf how to use their power. Adha’s father had taught her before he’d been run over and killed. Rashid had been a psychic of the mind projection order, or rather, an illusionist. He could make things appear, trick the eye in a way that even other Devils couldn’t call him on it. His blood price was dangerous. He had to ingest mercury. Just a tiny bit would do, but it had to be mercury. 

When Altair had been sixteen Rashid had gone Wight. Other terms were exploding, or going Wild. It was where a Devil ascended to a power above what they could do normally. They became demi gods in their own rights. Wights were always put down as quickly as possible and their killers were almost always other Devils. They gave Devils their bad name, as Wights were uncontrollable and unconcerned with pretending to be normal. They also had no blood price and could freely use their pact with superhuman control and power as though they’d become an amp unto themselves. Going Wight had turned Rashid from a simple illusionist to a fabricator, meaning he could manipulate the world around him in a physical way instead of merely an optical way.

Altair had found out his grandfather had gone Wight when he came home from school. Other Devils had already come. They’d had Rashid tied up in unbreakable chains created by someone’s pact. He was still alive so he could say goodbye to Altair. There he’d told Altair he was glad he was safe, and that he loved him. He also told Altair that he’d already killed the humans who’d broken into their home and had wanted to hurt them for being Devils.

One of the Devils had taken Altair away and they’d killed Rashid. Hundreds had attended Rashid’s funeral, including the Devils who’d killed him. They’d given Altair the most condolences, had grieved the deepest along with Altair. To attend the funeral of one of their own was one thing, to attend it as the reason it was being held was another.

After that Altair had stayed with Adha’s family for a year and half. Adha’s stepfather had never liked him, convinced he and Adha were fooling around. Joke was on him. He hadn’t touched Adha till just a few months ago once he’d gone through puberty and his powers had developed. Three days after he’d turned eighteen he’d been kicked out onto the street.

Then the next time he saw Adha was in college. He’d found her with help from new friends he’d made on the shadier part of life. She’d been so happy. On her own she hadn’t worn a hijab like her stepfather made her, but rather wore her black hair out and loose. It was a statement. A man couldn’t control her, let alone some _human_.

He could still remember the first time he’d seen her since he’d been kicked out. Every detail was there. The way her brow had furrowed in confusion, why a strange man she didn’t recognize had approached her and her friends. They’d both looked different since high school, and he’d been too busy surviving to keep in touch. Then he’d said, ‘Its Altair. Recognize me now?’

He smiled fondly remembering her scream of delight and she’d hugged him unthinkingly, though she knew he didn’t like touching. He’d kept his skin away from her skin even when he hugged her back. Then she’d remembered his personal space and let him go, but was still so bubbly and excited to see him. Altair had wanted to confess a thousand things that spring day. He’d wanted to kiss her too. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t known why back then. Now he knew. He’d been afraid. Afraid she’d turn away from him if she knew what he’d become. Afraid she’d find out what he had used his pact for when he’d been out on the street and nearly starving and shun him. She’d been too good for him. She still was. Always would be. He still wanted her.

Altair stopped watering the plant he was nearly drowning in his distraction. Water had collected in a pool under his shoes. “Oh, sorry,” he said unthinkingly to his poor sweet gum tree.

Altair finished with his plants, not thinking about Adha, and went back inside. He looked at his not junk mail a bit more thoroughly. Few bills, a check from a one-time client, and then two other envelopes. One was from Ezio so he just got it over with. He opened it and it was a card. One you’d buy at a CVS or Walgreens. It was a ‘I’m sorry’ card.

Altair threw it right into the garbage.

The other was from ‘Axel’. Altair’s ‘friend’. Almost more like his handler. He handled Altair’s affairs and jobs. Axel was the alias he went by. Altair knew him as Desmond. Desmond had sent him a dossier of his next job, knowing he was in Massachusetts and sending it at the right day to get to Altair the day he came back to New York.

It was for the Italian mob. Altair hadn’t worked for the Italian mob in a while. It was a simple job. Desmond must have thought he needed something easy to get back in the swing of things. He sighed a little as he read it. It was a simple tail. Boring. The money was good and Altair trusted Desmond to pick the correct jobs for him. Desmond got forty percent of his earnings from jobs Altair did, meaning it was in his best interests to keep Altair not only alive, but getting good work.

Still. A tail? He almost got out his phone to text Desmond to complain. Instead he put the dossier down and went about paying his bills. The job started in two days so he might as well be productive in that time at any rate.

—

Altair was sitting in his car, bored out of his mind. He hated tailing people. Hated it. Way below his pay grade. But when your employer was paying as much as they were Altair would do whatever they asked basically. Desmond had to be having a go at him with this job. Jerk.

It was drizzling and misty out, making the world ethereal in the thin sunlight. Altair had been sitting in his car over an hour waiting for the arms dealer to come out. He was supposed to watch and follow an arms dealer his client didn’t trust. The mob suspecting them of double dealing and selling to others at a lower price than them. It was supposed to be a private exchange between the two so that his man was selling to others meant that they were scalping Altair’s client. Altair existed on the books to make his clients happy. You didn’t just hire a guy like Altair to wipe your ass, you hired him when you needed something fixed _now_. Meaning Altair was out here, in the rain, annoyed and drinking lukewarm coffee waiting for the arms dealer to come out of the cafe they were in for a lot of money. A fucking bag boy could have done this and he was sort of insulted Desmond had given him this job.

He waited for a long time and they finally did come out. Altair’s brows went up when he saw them. They were all roughed up and limping a bit, or at the very least favoring their right side. Altair was parked far enough back that no one could see him. He turned on his car as they shuffled to their own car a block away and got in. 

Someone came out of the cafe and Altair wasn’t paying attention to the guy he was supposed to tail anymore. His eyes were trained on the little group that had come out of the cafe. One was the boss and walked in a loose triangle formation. They were inconsequential to Altair though. The fourth bodyguard was what Altair was staring at, walking several feet behind like he wasn’t part of the group.

Altair immediately took out his phone and called his client. His fingers trembled a little. He wasn’t scared, but adrenaline was racing through his body all the same. For him to even use the phone to talk meant he wasn’t in his right mind. He could almost feel the uptick of power in his blood, feel his features drifting around his face.

“C’mon,” he muttered, phone jammed against his ear as he jerked the car into drive. The call was picked up, “Rodrigo,” he said before the man could even say hello.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“Your shadow. Job’s off.”

“What? You can’t be serious, I’m paying you good money-

“It’ll be wired back to you tomorrow. Job’s off. Your arms dealer is selling arms to one of your competitors. Tall, bald, scar on his face, that’s all I saw. That’s all you’re getting.”

“What? You can’t do that-

Altair was stopped at a stoplight, “I am.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t concern you. Keep questioning me and you’ll be blacklisted from my services again Rodrigo. Goodbye, don’t call me for this job again,” and he hung up. The light changed to green and Altair put his foot on the pedal a bit harder than was probably necessary. His hands were gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He drove home, went into his condo, and didn’t leave the rest of the day. Desmond texted him later that night a simple ‘??’. Altair had only replied with a ‘Personal conflict.’ That was all Desmond had needed and had asked no more thankfully. Desmond didn’t need to know. He trusted Desmond a lot, but there were things he liked to keep secret from people, things he only let one person know because they were the only one he could trust.

In the morning he called Rauf in Oxford from his bed, before he’d even made breakfast or gone to the gym. He’d been so anxious last night he had barely slept, and when he did sleep it was of wearing fifteen faces and speaking with twenty mouths, seeing through ten sets of eyes. He’d been a thing of nightmare all at once with all those faces worn at once. It was a stress dream of what he feared would happen if he ever went Wight. His old friend picked up on the sixth ring. “You’re actually calling me?” Rauf sounded genuinely surprised.

“Will you check up on Adha for me?” Altair asked without pleasantries.

Rauf was quiet a beat, “No. You do it.”

“Rauf-

“You do it, Altair. She’s your friend too.”

“I told her I would deal with her if she’s going to kill herself like an idiot,” Altair growled.

“She wants to help people-

“We both know she could help a lot more people if she wasn’t so damn scared of herself. She knows I don’t wanna talk to her when she’s in the god damn hospital!” his voice went up in volume till he was just shy of yelling.

Rauf said nothing for a few seconds, “What’s the matter with you?” Rauf asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m _fine_ ,” Altair said even as he ran his hand through his hair, wanting to change skins just so he wasn’t so recognizable. He hadn’t been this worked up in years. When he got anxious or nervous it was hard to stay in one body. He wanted to just keep shifting because it made him feel safe and anonymous. No one knew him when he didn’t wear his own face.

“No, you’re not. What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Altair snapped.

“Yes it did. You contacted me last about the Kenway thing, and that was a one message text. Now you’re _calling_ _me_. About Adha. What happened?” Rauf said sternly. “Tell me and I’ll talk to Adha and check up on her. Promise.”

Altair was such a sucker sometimes. “I saw Him yesterday,” he said quietly and hunched over his knees. “He didn’t see me, I was in a car. At least I don’t think so. But I saw Him. I was at work. I quit the job because _nope_.”

“Oh… I’m sorry Altair,” Rauf was at least understanding. He knew how badly it fucked with Altair. What a guy like them could do to people like Altair, to Devils. It made them dangerous to everyone including themselves. “He didn’t see you?”

“No,” Altair said softly.

“Well then you have nothing to worry about. You know he’ll just leave you alone. Of anyone you know he wouldn’t hunt you down. Not his style.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that all it is?”

“Yeah,” Altair sighed.

“Well its fine. You’re fine. He didn’t see you. You don’t have to see him.”

“I know. I just… panicked,” he admitted. Altair wasn’t a panicked normally. He liked being in control. That guy just made him _out_ of control. That was His pact. He was an amp. He made Devils go Wight, which was when their pact overcame them. It made them stronger, practically invincible, and nearly god-like. Of course it was only when he triggered his own pact, but knowing them they’d do it just out of spite. Altair didn’t want him anywhere near him anymore, or near the few people Altair actually gave a damn about, like Adha, and Rauf.

“You’re fine. Now, I’ll call Adha in a few hours when it’s a reasonable hour in her part of the world. You go have your day, do what you do.”

“I- Okay. Thanks Rauf,” Altair said. “This is why I called you and not some other chump on my contacts.”

Rauf laughed, “Like you would ever willingly talk to any of them other than me,” Rauf teased him.

“True,” Altair said.

“Good morning, Altair,” and then Rauf hung up, knowing Altair wouldn’t actually say goodbye. Altair never did. He just hung up usually. He hated saying goodbye. He hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to his parents before they were basically lynched via arson. Hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to his grandfather either.

He could still remember when his grandfather had died and after. After he’d been kicked out by Adha’s stepfather for ‘sleeping with his stepdaughter’. What a load of horse shit that was.

After he’d been forced to leave he’d lived on the streets for a while, homeless, jobless, being a face stealer to survive. Sometimes he took the form of a woman for a day and used it to earn a quick buck. Never really had a real job, could never keep one. He didn’t have a bank account, or a place to live, and he didn’t like shelters. Being so close to humans for so long sickened him. They’d killed his parents and he blamed them for Rashid going Wight. He’d just been trying to protect himself and Altair from a world that wanted them dead.

Then He’d come. Literally picked Altair out of the gutter when he was nineteen and said he was a waste of a Devil and they weren’t going to allow it. After that Altair had been brought into the dark side of the world and became involved in thieves, mafia, corrupt and clean government agents and lawmakers, mercenaries, and anyone else that dealt with the side of life most people wanted to pretend weren’t there. Altair had learned everything he knew from them. Learned to control his powers like never before, and started his own book of contacts and clients that needed his special brand of work. They were an amp, and they wanted Altair in their stable of Devil’s, to be Their underling, to make the humans hesitate. 

It’d been fine for a while. He could still feel what it felt like to sip from the icy flow that was an amp’s pact. It was like having your body on fire. You were more than you were. More powerful. More controlled. More everything. Under the power of an amp he hadn’t even had to pay his price. He could shift at will, back and forth without a worry. It made him drunk of power for a while, but they always pulled him back. When he or any other Devil got out of hand, too big for their breeches, they’d take it away and it was like being thrown into a fire.

So sure and amped up Altair had tracked Adha down and seen her for the first time in years. He’d wanted to show her how great he’d become. It hadn’t turned out that way. Seeing her there, beautiful and untouchable he realized he’d become a shadow. A piece of trash and a junkie who couldn’t even stand in the same light as her. She’d been so much more wonderful than he’d remembered and compared to Him she was like the sun and He was the darkest currents of the ocean, pulling him down. It left a bitter twang to that happy memory of her delight of seeing him again.

Altair had left Him shortly after seeing Adha. They made him feel disgusting, lesser for relying so heavily on Him, on wanting to be amped. He hadn’t felt like himself. He’d felt like a devil. Altair shook his head and gave his face a few smacks. That was the past. Ten years cold now. He had no control over Altair anymore.

He got out of bed and exercised; it was leg day. Once he was done he made breakfast and checked his mail while he ate. He had several new, important, messages. One was from Rodrigo, cursing him out mostly in some very tame language. Was about as much as he could do. Altair’s number was blocked and they’d never met. One was from Haytham, asking him to come check on Connor, see how he was developing. The last was from an associate who wanted to know if he was up for a job to help them murder someone.

He dealt with them in order of importance. He told Rodrigo to fuck off before wiring the money back to his account. Altair was pained to let that money go but he had too much honor to keep it. Next he sent a reply to Haytham saying he’d come by during the weekend. Last he sent his associate a reply asking for a bit more information before he agreed to any job.

Work done for the day for the most part Altair just drank his coffee and waited for Rauf to get back to him.

Knowing him Rauf just texted him. ‘She’s still alive. Still being stubborn. She told me if you wanted to check up on her so badly to just call her yourself and then hung up on me.’ Altair grimaced at that and didn’t even reply. Rauf knew not to expect a reply anyway.


	9. A Bender

On the weekend Altair went up to Massachusetts to check on Connor. Haytham couldn’t afford to have Altair on retainer but they’d worked out a deal. He’d spent nearly a month with Connor at first and now he just stopped by now and then so the little Devil boy didn’t bleed Haytham’s bank account dry to be taught properly.

Haytham welcomed Altair in when he arrived and Connor was at least not shy around him anymore. It had taken Altair a solid week for the kid to even warm up to him. As usual Haytham had the house staff out for the times Altair visited, and also left to go work somewhere else. There was no Mrs. Kenway. Connor’s mother, like many mothers of Devils, was dead. Unlike most mothers of Devils it wasn’t because of Connor being a Devil. Rather a hate crime against her for being First Nation. 

Sometimes Altair didn’t know how humans were still even in existence when they hated themselves _so_ much. Devils didn’t usually fight one another. They were a rare breed anyway and having to kill each other was always a loss. Every time a Devil died the funerals were always attended by crowds, even if the other Devils had never known the one who’d died. It was one of them, and they deserved the respect and peace to be buried amid their own kind. Rashid’s funeral had been attended by a hundred Devils, even by the ones who’d put him down when he’d gone Wight.

“So, show me,” Altair said to Connor once they were alone. Connor nodded and looked across the room. A moment passed and then he teleported with a crack like thunder. Most Devils had a primary and a secondary part of their pacts. The primary required the blood price, the secondary didn’t. The secondary wasn’t without its price, but it wasn’t as extreme as a blood price. Altair’s primary was obviously the shapeshifting, but his secondary was much more subtle. It was just his ability to memorize and replicate other people’s mannerisms. The price was his social anxiety and general shut in nature since before puberty he’d been the exact opposite. 

Other Devil’s had flashier secondaries. Connor’s secondary ability was the teleport, and the price was that it was loud and was only useful at about twenty feet. It complimented his primary pact to be able to go invisible. Both were useful in getting around easier. Poor Connor’s blood price was mostly just obnoxious than anything else, sort of like Altair’s. He needed to hallucinate in some way. Sleeping usually did the trick since that was all REM sleep and dreams were. Drugs would also do the trick, but Haytham had been very vocally against it when Altair had brought it up.

That hadn’t stopped Altair from buying a few shrooms from one of the local drug dealers and making Connor fulfill his blood price that way. Mainly so he’d know what he was getting into if he couldn’t take a full hour to fall into REM sleep and dream. Also let him explain exactly _what_ Connor should take if he needed to complete his blood price quickly. Only down side was the kid was a complete lightweight. Was also sort of an upside since it meant Connor didn’t need a lot, just enough to start hallucinating.

“Very good,” Altair said approvingly. “You found your absolute range like we talked about?”

“Yeap,” Connor said, “and I can guesstimate where it is pretty easily.”

“Good. How much you bothering your old man with it?”

“Not a lot,” but by Connor’s little grin Altair knew he was lying.

“Yeah, _sure_ ,” Altair said. “And how about your invisibility? You able to control it better?”

Connor nodded vigorously, “I don’t do it spontaneously anymore… for the most part. When I panic I do sometimes, or even I get super emotional or stressed out.”

“You’ll learn control,” Altair said. “It takes time. All Devils took time to master their pacts.”

“Even you?” Connor asked coming back over and sitting with Altair.

“ _Especially_ me. I’d sometimes come home from school looking like one of the other kids there.” And while he didn’t tell Connor he also often just spontaneously took on aspects of the people he was sleeping with during and after sex when he was younger. That hadn’t happened in nearly two decades. Hadn’t made it any less freaky or had made Rauf laugh at him any less when suddenly there were two of them. Back then Rauf had been more of a narcissistic asshole and had finished anyway.

Being a teenage Devil who could shape shift had been _super_ weird.

Connor laughed, “Really?”

“Yeap. And changing back was always weird or awkward,” because lying didn’t always work. If the person you were lying to you knew it was a lie it worked about fifty percent of the time. If the person wanted to _believe_ the lie it usually did work. His mom always knew he was lying, so it barely ever worked. Oddly enough lying to animals also worked, every time. Altair didn’t like lying to animals though. It felt wrong to him.

“I bet.”

“But you’ll learn real control. We all do. Its learn control, or die,” he reminded Connor who swallowed uncomfortably, the light mood darkened a bit.

“My dad says we shouldn’t have to be afraid of dying young,” Connor said.

“We shouldn’t,” Altair agreed. “But what your dad wants and what’s reality are two very different things.”

“But he’s trying to get that bill through.”

“And what do you think would happen if Devils were made to register our powers?” Altair asked. “How many would lie? Our pacts make us a threat to national and world security. We all have god-like powers. Yours is fairly benign and can be countered with some IR capabilities since you can make your body invisible, not your heat signature. But someone like me? I could look like the _president_. I could mimic his voice, his manners, his subtle actions no one notices. And there would be no way they’d ever know. I’d be able to lie to them constantly, ‘I’m not a Devil’ is all I’d have to say, to anyone, or ‘there are no Devils here’, then I could sleep and in the morning look like the president again.

“And we’re fairly tame Devils,” Altair continued. “What about the Devils who can control fire? Or the ones who can fly? Or the ones who can bend metal? Or I’ve heard of one who can walk through walls as their secondary ability, and I don’t even _know_ their primary. They all become threat vectors once the government and the public realizes just the sort of power we actually have.

“The bill your father is making is nice in theory. Register Devils, get them known so they can be protected properly by the government and so they know who and what they’re dealing with if one of us ever go Wight. But in the end we’ll all lie about the extent of our powers, tame them so they aren’t so powerful. And of course there are amp Devils. Have I told you about those?”

“No,” Connor said with a shake of the head.

“They’re Devils whose entire pact is to amplify the pacts of other Devils,” Altair said. “Very rare. But I know two, one who hasn’t enacted his pact in over a decade, and the other does when he wants to. They can give Devils Wight abilities without them going Wight when their pacts are enacted, just by being near other Devils, or after touching them.”

“That sounds scary,” Connor said.

“It is,” Altair said. A Devil’s worst nightmare was going Wight and most wanted nothing to do with amps. They were pariahs even among their own kind. Desmond was an amp, but he swore he’d never enact his pact after he’d gotten his brother killed the last time he did. The man who’d left Altair was the other amp he knew. They used their pact like a weapon, flushing Devils out when they made him angry, or wanted to make a point.

That was what had made Altair leave them. He’d seen what they did to other Devils, and they were so powerful they could bring out the latent aspects of humans, giving them nearly demonic power. Altair had been a scared kid back then. Barely a kid really. He’d been in his mid twenties before it’d become too much. Didn’t matter they promised to never influence Altair, watching them ruin other Devils and twist humans for so long was enough to make him run.

“But amps would never reveal themselves to the government. Someone that could make us stronger? They’d be wiped out, or forcibly sterilized. Not that that would help.”

“Cause Devilism is random?” Connor supplied.

“Exactly. Devils make Devils most of the time, but humans also make Devils. Amps don’t make more amps, they just make more Devils. Regular Devils and humans also make amps. But they’d still try to kill them which would lead the amps to need to protect themselves. How do you think they’d do that?”

Connor thought a moment and Altair let him work it out himself. Most Devils came to this realization at one time or another when they learned about amps. It was usually around the time that laws involving Devil restrictions came up for a vote. Most of the time the bills were so unconstitutional and inhumane they never got onto the Congress floor. That and there were people like Altair pumping money into the State Building with lobbyists to keep bullshit laws from hurting Devils even more than they already did. Altair had to spend his wealth on something, and he put about a third of it into fighting for Devil equality. He did so quietly, through human mouths that could never be traced back to him. Other Devils who could did the same.

“They’d enact their pacts,” Connor eventually concluded. “That’d cause normal Devils to become more powerful, gain Wight abilities, and maybe lose control. They’d seek out the amp doing it to them to make them stop. The amp would stop in exchange for protection.”

“Bingo,” Altair said. “That was how a lot of old polytheistic religions happened. Amps gathered followers, forged them into gods, and the humans _worshiped_ us. Then that Jewish bastard came along and ruined everything for us and we became pagan and deserving of death.”

“Was Jesus a Devil?” Connor asked.

Altair made a face, “I honestly don’t know. Never met him. My grandfather thought he was. He preached all about love and acceptance and borderline anarchy, performed miracles, and in general acted very Devil-like.”

“What do you think?”

“Honestly?” Connor nodded. “I think Jesus wasn’t just one man. But a bunch of Devils, Jesus did have twelve acolytes and thirteen Devils is more than enough to account for his ability to perform so many different ‘miracles’.”

“Are they possible?”

“Yes,” Altair said seriously.

“Wow,” Connor said after a beat. “There’s a lot I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. I’ll keep you on track.”

Connor frowned at him, “You’re just here because my father pays you to be,” Connor said.

“Yeah but my heart’s in a good place.”

“Sure it is.”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you kid. My money serves more than just my greed and doesn’t all just go into my pocket.”

“Alright,” he knew Connor didn’t believe him. That was okay. The kid didn't know everything. Didn't need to know everything. Altair wasn't here to be a saint either. He was here to train Connor and make sure nothing went wrong. "What's it like?" he asked.

"What's what like?"

"Being around an amp?"

"Terrifying," Altair said. "It's like you've lost control. Your body isn't your own. The one I knew did it to me a few times to make me learn, he taught me. I couldn't control my shifting."

"What do you mean?"

"So you know my price," Connor nodded. "Under an amp, there is no price," Connor’s eyes widened. "And no limit. Shifting a lot in a short time can leave me tired. But amped? I could continuously change my face and then go back to my own without needing to pay my price. And sometimes I'm not perfect or being in a girl's body is hard. Amped up I didn't feel like myself wearing someone else's face. It felt like I was that person and Altair was just controlling from the background. It was terrifying, to not be myself and no control over it. You don't want to meet an amp, Connor, trust me."

Even as he said that he couldn't help but think of the two he knew. He was close to them both. One used his pact like a weapon and the other was one of the most mellow and gentle Devils he'd ever met. He'd slept with them both two. Sort of awkward when he thought about it.

"Do amps have prices? You're making them sound like gods," Connor said.

"They do. But they're like most Devils and don't share their prices with others. The only reason you know mine is cause I'm your teacher. Otherwise you won’t know other Devil’s pacts. Its rude to ask, so if you ever meet another Devil, don’t.”

“You know other peoples’ though,” Connor said.

“I do. People I’m close friends with-

“You have friends?”

Altair chuckled, “Hard to believe huh? But yes, I do. The ones I trust know my pact, and I know theirs. Word of advice, never tell someone you pact who won’t tell you theres.”

“You sound like that happened to you,” Connor said.

Altair gave him an even look, “Pacts are power,” he said. “Once you know a Devil’s pact you can manipulate them, bend them to your will. In mythology speaking a demon’s name gives you power over them. In reality its our pact.”

“What do you mean?”

“They can _deny_ you your blood price. For some devils that’s a death sentence. For you its an inconvenience. For someone like me? I’ll die if they don’t let me pay my price. It’d be a slow death. All they’d have to do is cut me off from another human. A human cannot sin alone, it’s impossible. I’ve tried. To sin is to exist with other humans. Eventually, being awake for so long, I’d go crazy, and then eventually kill myself.”

Connor’s eyes were huge. “How long have you been awake in one go?”

“Six days,” Altair said. “Don’t ask why, I won’t tell you,” he added, seeing the question about to burst out of Connor. “Now, enough of the oral lesson today. Lets work on your spacial visibility control,” and Altair got up from the couch. Connor jumped up. “If you can go invisible you should be able to go partially invisible, or control what part you want invisible. That’s what we’ll work on today, and what I want you to practice while I’m gone.”

“How do I do that?” Connor asked.

“Make yourself invisible.”

“But-

“Don’t worry, we’ll make you visible before I leave.”

That didn’t make Connor any happier. “My dad says you’re going to turn me into an addict.”

“After you’ve learned control you can never use your pact again if you want. Some Devils go their entire lives without using their pacts after puberty when they first learn to use them. If you don’t learn control you’re going to go invisible at random all your life. You might even teleport randomly. Like you said, you still go invisible under emotional discourse or stress. You want that all your life?”

Connor looked down, “No,” he admitted.

“Now go invisible.”

Connor hesitated and then phased out of existence. He had a strong type of invisibility. Connor could make both himself and anything touching him invisible. It wasn’t simple light bending either like Altair had seen in other Devils who could make themselves invisible but couldn’t invisible their clothes. Connor was invisible and was intangible. You could still see him in infrared but you couldn’t _touch_ him. His atoms were split apart just enough to turn him into something humans couldn’t see or touch. It was almost like he was phasing. He was limited by the solid world around him though.

Altair hated to think what Connor could become if he knew the full extent of his abilities. Altair could see them but he kept Connor slightly in the dark about just _what_ the nature of his powers were. Either he’d become afraid of himself, like Adha, or he’d trust the wrong Devil and that Devil would abuse him. Altair had seen both. Adha was a wonder, like Connor, but she was _so scared_. Altair had trusted Him too much with what he was. Altair had been manipulated and abused by Him, coerced into using his pact in ways he wouldn’t, or do things that still left bad tastes in his mouth. He didn’t want that to happen to Connor. He was a good kid, he didn’t deserve to be taken advantage of by the next Devil he met. Altair planned on keeping tabs on Connor as he grew up even once the job was done. Once he was old enough he’d tell Connor the rest of his pact.

“Happy?” Connor’s voice asked.

“A little. Show me your head.”

“You know I can’t become visible without filling my blood price,” Connor huffed.

“You don’t know what you’re capable of. And you aren’t becoming visible. You’re making your _head_ visible. Now try.”

“How?”

“How do you make yourself visible?”

“I dunno. It just happens.”

“Think about it,” Altair sat back down, looking at where Connor’s voice was coming from, about where his head should be. “You’ve come far but this is the next step. Your pact is a part of you and you are a part of it, but it does not control you. You are the master of your pact and the only balance is your blood price. Now think about it, and try. You aren’t getting any of the drugs I brought until you’ve made some sort of progress or attempt.”

“Prick,” Connor grumbled.

“So I’ve been told. Would having to perform for your father be a better motivator?” Altair asked mildly. He wasn’t an idiot after all. He’d been around the house. He’d seen Connor’s _many_ sports trophies and academic awards. He aimed to please. Maybe he didn’t care about performing for Altair, but his father? 

Connor’s room had no sports memorabilia in it at all, nor did it have lots of study material or difficult subjects. Rather he had animal posters on his walls and collected Star Wars toys and he had a shelf full of books on animals and national parks. The kid had a damn tent in the backyard and Altair had spied him, more than once, on his phone looking up information about the best sort of outdoor dogs. The kid _screamed_ antisocial crunchy kid who liked animals and going hiking. Yet things like sports and school were important to Haytham so Connor did those to make his father happy.

For Altair Connor was only doing out of force but for Haytham Connor would do things he thought was impossible. Altair wasn’t sure if it was out of a mutual love, or some sort of fucked up relationship. Altair liked to think it was the former, otherwise Haytham, wouldn’t have looked for someone like Altair to train his son. He’d have just let Connor self destruct.

“What?” Connor asked. Altair didn’t know how the kid had so many academic awards. He was dumb as a box of rocks when it came to people. Maybe he was just book smart the same way Altair was social smart.

Altair would figure out how to fill his price later. Wouldn’t be hard. He shifted, his hair lengthening and graying, his features aged fifteen years and he became broader. Every detail down to the whirl of his fingerprints and the unique pattern of the iris changed. Haytham didn’t fit well in his clothes though. He was older, fatter, filled out his clothes badly. “Do as he says, son,” Altair said in a perfect replication of Haytham’s voice down to the British accent. Accents were Altair’s specialty and were part of his secondary ability along with the memory.

Connor said nothing for a moment. “Stop that,” he said and if Altair didn’t know better the kid sounded like he was about to have a break down. “Don’t… don’t look like my dad!”

“Or what?” Altair asked, dropping the accent so Connor knew _full well_ that the Haytham looking man wasn’t actually his father.

“He makes me nervous about my powers,” Connor said. “I always… always fuck them up when he’s watching.”

Altair internally rolled his eyes. Kid tried too hard to please and when he wasn’t good at something right away it made him fail. “Fine,” Altair shifted again. This time he just turned into Malik because they had a similar build and because he was going to need this skin soon anyway.

“Who’s that?”

“An asshole I have to work with,” Altair said with Malik’s wicked mouth, letting Malik’s accent roll around in his mouth. Malik would have _kittens_ if he knew Altair used his body so casually. Guy needed to get over Altair. They were never going to work out, no matter how many times he texted Altair.

“Oh-

“Don’t ask who. I’m not telling you,” Altair said.

Connor frowned. “Okay. Isn’t this inconvenient for you?”

“Not really,” he said with a shrug. “I can fix it when I go home.”

“How?”

“You know how.”

“Yeah but isn’t that-

“Connor, you’re dodging my request. Make your face visible,” Malik’s voice could be a lash and Altair knew how to manipulate a body like Malik’s. For Altair Malik was a comfortable pair of jeans, a bit worn at the hems but sturdy and didn’t rip or tear easily. Not as comfortable as his own skin but since they were so similar it was an easier transition than his normal female skins his jobs seemed to be calling for so much recently.

“I don’t know how-

“Then figure it out. You’re a smart boy. Then we can show your father how much progress you’ve made. You don’t want your father to be paying me so much for nothing do you? Especially when all I do with it is pay people to fight his bill.”

“You what?”

“Make your head visible.”

Connor’s head abruptly appeared and he looked a mix of confused and angry. “You’re fighting my dad’s bill?” he demanded.

Malik’s mouth didn’t really smile. It sort of smirked, showed a hint of amusement, usually at someone else’s expense, but it was serviceable. “Yes.”

“What… but why?”

“Because Devil registration is a _terrible_ idea. It’d lead to wars and hate crimes on a scale we can’t even imagine. It’d turn into the Cold War all over again,” Altair pushed himself to his feet. Malik had a different center of balance than he was used to, his legs were shorter, though he was the same height as Altair. And it wasn’t like walking in a girl’s body either. 

“Look at you though,” Altair came up to Connor and poked his cheek. “You’re visible,” he smiled at Connor and then abruptly shifted into Haytham. “I’m so proud of you,” he said in Haytham’s accent and ruffled Connor’s hair a bit. 

Connor stared up at Altair like it was the first time he’d ever really seen Altair. Or maybe like he finally realized the capacity of what Devils were capable of. What sort of control they could exert over their pact. That this was why people feared them, why people had _worshiped_ them. Altair had gone from Malik to Haytham in less than a few seconds, face and body shifting in rapid order. Usually he shifted slowly. Normal humans thought that was impressive but only Devils could appreciate the mastery of enacting their pact in a snap decision like he’d just done.

Altair let himself melt back into Malik and he saw Connor watching every moment. “I’d say take a picture, but I’d have to confiscate your phone, kid,” Altair said with Malik’s smirk.

“Wow,” Connor said softly. Altair laughed his own laugh through Malik’s mouth, which was more of an amused scoff. Malik did a fully body laugh when he laughed, the only ‘cute’ aspect about him as far as Altair was concerned.

“See why its important to control your pact?” Malik asked. Connor nodded. “Good,” he went back over to his bag and pulled out a small bakery box. “Do it again and we’re all done, you can pretend to be normal.”

“I hate when you say that,” Connor said sourly.

“Thems the breaks, kid,” Altair said. “Now go invisible.” Connor scowled at Altair a little before his head disappeared. “Make your left arm appear.”

“My left, or your left?”

Altair chuckled, “Your left.” Connor did nothing for a little bit, Altair just waited patiently. “When you do it this time try to remember the feeling of it so you can practice it tonight before you go to bed.”

“Okay,” Connor’s voice said. Then, at once, a thirteen year old’s arm appeared out of thin air right in front of Altair, bobbing a little bit. “There, I did it, can I be visible now?”

“Yes,” Altair said sitting down on the couch again and opened the cardboard box. Inside were two muffins. “One for you,” he put it in the floating hand. “One for me,” he took the other.

“These aren’t drugs,” Connor said suspiciously.

“I prefer my weed to be easy to take. I honestly hate smoking,” Altair said. “Bad for the lungs,” he took a bite of the muffin. “Pot muffin. You should learn to make them.”

“I’m not going to learn to make pot muffins,” Connor said.

“Eat your damn muffin kid,” Altair said. The muffin was lifted up to Connor’s head and disappeared into thin air in a few bites. “Easier to hide drugs from your old man and everyone else if they’re in food. Since you’re going to need them, I suggest learning to make them. And don’t skimp on the weed, get good stuff so you only need one. Like this one.”

“I don’t feel anything yet,” Connor said.

“You will. A friend of mine likes this strain. So it comes recommended.” Connor sat, Altair knew because the arm moved around. It was so weird watching a fucking arm just bob around even though it was attached to a body. “They call it Lavender. The bud is purple, super weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“Says the Devil who can teleport and disappear.”

“You can look like my dad. That’s so weird.”

“I can look like _anyone_ , which is why your dad’s an idiot.”

“About the bill?”

“Mhm! But lets not talk about it more. With any luck, like the rest of the bills like it that have come up the past few decades it’ll be laughed off the Congress floor.” He ate the rest of his muffin.

Connor showed signs of being affected quicker than Altair. His eyes grew a bit unfocused and then like they were peeling back a film the rest of Connor appeared. “I don’t like this feeling, Altair,” Connor said.

“Just until you can learn control kid. Then you never have to do this again if you don’t want. Though I think you’d prefer this over to the sleep meds I could get ahold of. Now _that_ stuff will give you a habit. Better to take something like weed than get a prescription pill addiction.”

“Yeah,” Connor nodded weakly.

Altair turned on the TV and the two of them watched cartoons in silence while they rode out their trip. Altair didn’t like drugs either really but he always tripped with Connor. Mainly so the kid didn’t feel so uncomfortable by being high alone. Altair’s intention wasn’t to make Connor ill at ease in his body. He wanted Connor to feel comfortable in his own skin the way some Devils never did. So Altair tripped with him so he wasn’t alone.

Haytham came back as they were coming down. “What’s going on in here? Altair, I pay you to train my son not watch cartoons,” he snapped.

Altair looked up at Haytham with Malik’s unamused face. He then shifted into Haytham. “Altair I don’t pay you nearly enough to make sure my son doesn’t get himself killed by bigots and specists who’d love to take a bat to his head for how he was born if they found out he was a Devil. I’m so sorry I’m so _ungrateful_ you’re keeping my son safe when I can’t,” Altair mimicked Haytham perfectly. Haytham was pale with horror and humiliation when Altair was done. “We done here?” he continued.

“You’re watching cartoons. I don’t see how this is a good use of my money!”

Altair grunted as he got up. “Connor,” he said and the kid looked at him. He shifted back into Malik. “I’m leaving now. Practice what we did today before you go to bed so when you wake up you’ll be visible. I expect you to have it mostly mastered by next week like you learned with your teleportation.”

Connor licked his lips. “Okay, Altair,” he said.

“Great. See you next week, kid. Haytham,” he nodded at the furious senator and stepped around him. “I’ll send you an invoice,” he said nicely and Haytham just glared at him. Altair saw himself out and went out to his rental car. He had to drive back to Boston and catch his flight back home to New York City. 

He dug around in his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone and hit number four on his speed dial. Desmond picked up on the fifth ring.

“You’re actually calling me on the phone? I’m in shock and awe,” Desmond said sarcastically.

“Yeah, hi,” Altair said, no accent and it made Malik’s voice sound dead. 

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the phone and he was sure Desmond was freaking out. He didn’t know Malik, had never spoken to him, didn’t know the sound of his voice at all. This strange voice was calling from Altair’s phone. Desmond didn’t give out his number to people. He was freakishly paranoid about being found out to be a Devil, and even worse, an amp. Not even other Devils liked amps and every Devil had heard at least one rumor of an amp being tracked down and killed just for the _potential_ of hurting the Devil population in a given area. When an amp wasn’t in control they were vulnerable and easy pickings. Altair had never actually known of a report of an amp hunt in truth and as far as he knew they were _just_ rumor.

“Who is this? How did you get this number? Where’s Aleck?” Aleck, like a smart aleck. Desmond had thought it was soooooo clever.

“He’s dead,” Altair said through Malik’s mouth. Malik had a wait to make the hair stand up on the back of your neck and as a contract killer he had a sort of finality to his words when he told someone the person was dead.

“Wh-what?” Desmond choked. 

Altair smiled and shifted back into his own skin once more. “You know you’re so gullible Dessy,” he teased and turned the car on.

“Altair!” Desmond cried. “You fucking sonuvabitch!”

“Glad to know you would have missed me so much. Or maybe just missed the paycheck,” he smirked as he put the car into drive and made his way out of Haytham’s driveway towards the road.

“Fuck you. You scared the fuck out of me!”

“I needed an easy lie, and you believe anything you’re told.”

“I do not,” Desmond said sourly as Altair turned onto the road. 

“You immediately believed I was dead by a voice you didn’t know that somehow had my phone and could access it. You’re like the most gullible person I know.”

“Its possible. Who was that anyway?”

“An associate,” was all Altair said.

“Pft, fine, whatever. At least you aren’t calling me for sex again. It’s getting harder for me to explain to my girlfriend why we sometimes have a threesome with the Arab guy she still doesn’t know the name of. Do you know how awkward that is.”

“Not my problem to explain to your girlfriend your _my_ booty call.”

“Fuck off. I’m not a booty call.”

“So if I’d called up saying it was me and needed to fill my blood price you’d have said no?” Desmond didn’t answer that. “You’re a booty call.”

“I hate you so much sometimes, bro.”

“And my money. I know. You really hate the money.”

“Y-you know it isn’t just about that.”

“I know,” Altair said, somewhat reserved now.

“You already on your way back home?”

“Yes.”

Desmond hesitated, sighed. “Lucy says you should come over for dinner. She still thinks its weird you’ve come over like half a dozen times this year, not even really talked, and then leave when we’re done. She wants to see you.”

“I don’t do shit like that.”

“As I’ve tried to _explain_ to her.”

“She know?”

“You’re you? No. She doesn’t even… know about me,” Desmond had a wince in his voice. “Pretend to think about it? She might start saying no.”

“I’ll just wear your face next time for the first half-

“Fuck no you will not!” Desmond roared.

Altair chuckled. “Text me if you need me, or you have another job.” That was as good as a goodbye as Desmond would get. He caught Desmond’s mumbled ‘goodbye’ as he turned his phone off. By now he’d gotten onto the highway and was on his way to Boston. He’d be there in an hour or so and be just in time to wait for his flight back home.

 


End file.
